


The 212th Attack Battalion's Guide to On Site Procurement

by antigrav_vector, Quarra



Series: The 212th Attack Battalion's Guide to Saving the Galaxy by Accident [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassination attempts, But not in an unhealthy way, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack, De-Aged Characters, Exhibitionism, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, GFY, Gambling, Jango Fett is a protective big brother, Jaster Mereel is The Best Dad, M/M, Mandalorian Culture, Mandalorian Jedi, Mando'a, Mando’ad Ben Kenobi, Protective Clone Troopers, Sifo-Dyas and Dooku are adorkable and married, Smut, Sparring as Flirting, Voyeurism, Yan Dooku is a secret troll, albeit in different ways, armour is basically a religion on Mandalore, beware there's quite a bit of UST and RST in this one, but only in the final chapter, clone trooper shenanigans, de-aged Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, don't worry there's a glossary, elements of kidfic, gratuitous use of mando'a, martial arts demonstrations, pit fighting, so are all of the Vod'e, so is Sifo-Dyas, so is fighting, the universe may implode, the younger Obi-Wan is about five years old and made of sunshine, there are two Kenobis and both are lethal, threesome negotiations, utter silliness, who uses the pseudonym Ben, younger hotter Christopher Lee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 65,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28552767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/pseuds/antigrav_vector, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quarra/pseuds/Quarra
Summary: "10/10, food was great, pit fighting was great, would punch aVodagain."TheMand'alortakes hisad'ikeout for dinner and a show. Somewhat predictably, given the involvement of the 212th Attack Battalion, utter chaos ensues.
Relationships: Jaster Mereel & Sifo-Dyas, Jaster Mereel & Yan Dooku, Obi-Wan Kenobi & 212th Attack Battalion, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Clone Troopers, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Jango Fett, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Jaster Mereel, Yan Dooku & Sifo-Dyas, Yan Dooku/Sifo-Dyas, Yan Dooku/Sifo-Dyas/Jaster Mereel, background Obi-Wan Kenobi/CC-2224 | Cody, background Waxer (Star Wars)/Boil (Star Wars)
Series: The 212th Attack Battalion's Guide to Saving the Galaxy by Accident [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830226
Comments: 329
Kudos: 594





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as about four chapters' worth of the [Guide to Staging Rescues](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25262914), but we decided it would work better as a stand-alone sidefic, because pacing is a thing. Enjoy the ridiculous. We sure did. As in the main fic, various clone trooper POV segments and Ben Kenobi's are authored by Grav and everyone else (plus Helix) by Quarra.
> 
> TVTropes link on [On Site Procurement](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OnSiteProcurement).

\--- POV: Jaster Mereel ---

_Dinner was going to be something special…_

\--

There was a place Jaster liked to go. He’d been taking Jango there for years. It was something of an open secret. An eatery for those who followed the old clan traditions. The place was run by an established family. Their oldest daughter was one of Jaster’s _ori’ramikad’e_. The rest of their _ad’e_ were all looking to take over the restaurant.

Jaster was a regular there, when he had the time to be and when he was on planet. _Mand’alor_ or not, though, he’d get some static bringing _jetiise_ there. He wanted to share this with his new _ad’ike_ , though, and like it or not, Obi-wan was a part of that group. The _vod’e_ and Ben considered him _aliit_. 

He didn’t think that it would be too much of a problem. Either way, it would serve as a wake up call to the _Mando’ad’e_ who were holdouts to the old way of thinking. Change was coming. Old enemies were becoming _aliit_. In order to grow, they would have to assimilate and grow together. 

They’d certainly cause a lot of gossip. That was all to the good, in Jaster’s opinion. He wouldn’t hide his choices from his people. He’d show them his new _ad’e_ , show the _Mando’ad’e_ that he was _proud_ of his _aliit_ , and challenge them to follow the Way.

Foundlings are the future. No matter where those foundlings come from. This is the Way.

Little Obi-wan in his new _ad’ika_ armor and his _jetii_ robes would be one hell of a statement. Just as Ben was, wearing his full _beskar’gam_ and keeping his _jetii’kad_ secured at his hip.

If Jaster had to paint a damn mural of Tarre Viszla on the side of the biodome to remind his people that the _jetiise_ and _Mando’ad’e_ could be one and the same, he’d do it. 

Though he’d rather start with subtler measures first. 

Like a trip out to dinner with his _aliit_.

\--

“Where are we going, _buir_?” Cody asked as he noticed the sun was starting to set. It couldn’t properly be seen through the biodome, but the light was definitely waning.

“Dinner. Someplace fun,” Jaster said with a smile.

“Don’t worry, _vod’ike_. You’ll all like it,” Jango said. He knew exactly where they were headed and likely had the moment Jaster had mentioned they’d be going out for dinner. 

“Food?” Obi-wan asked. He was walking in between Cody and Waxer, swinging their arms with his. “I’m hon-gry.”

“Yes, food,” Jaster said with amusement. Kriff, children were bottomless pits. It felt like they’d _just had_ the iced fruit. 

If Obi-wan was hungry, then Ben and the _vod’e_ would be too. Either they didn’t want to mention it or they hadn’t realized it. Ben, in particular, seemed to be terrible at remembering to listen when his body told him to refuel and recharge. 

They all turned the corner, and approached the restaurant. It was situated in the basement of a larger building, with stairs leading down from ground level. Businesses of other kinds filled the rest of the block and there was a fair bit of foot traffic to be seen, though everyone gave Jaster and his _aliit_ wide berth.

Standing at the entrance to the stairs was Darist, fully kitted out in her _beskar’gam_ and with her _buy’ce_ on. 

“ _Mand’alor_ ,” she said, with a fist tapped in salute to her chest. 

“Darist.” Jaster paused a moment and tilted his head to the side. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Jango said you were headed out to eat. Me and some of the _verd’e_ figured we’d linger around, make sure you all have a peaceful meal.”

He was touched by her concern, and then immediately suspicious. “Captain Sina hear something?” Darist and Sina were friends, and often cooperated together and passed along intel when things like this came up. 

She immediately soothed his worries with a shake of her head. “Nah, _Mand’alor_. Headhunter Company just wanted to be cautious.” She shifted in such a way that Jaster just knew that she had a shit eating grin on her face. “Besides, we want to see if any of your _ad’ike_ decide to go in the ring.”

Ah. That was what was going on.

“They are _ad'ike_. I am not letting them into a pit fight,” Jaster growled. Clearly, Darist didn’t buy his offended tone at all, because she just nodded her head in a way that told him she was humoring him.

“This place has a pit fighting ring?” Crys asked. 

_Manda_ help him, he could hear how excited Crys sounded. 

Jaster didn’t know why he was surprised by that. Of course the _vod’e_ would be excited by a fighting ring. Jango had been, when he was their age. 

Darist cackled and stepped out of the way. “After you, _Mand’alor_.”

With a shake of his head, he led the group down the stairs. He noticed how the _vod’e_ kept Ben and Obi-wan at the center of their group, with the _jetiise_ bringing up the rear and Darist behind them.

They stepped into a waiting area. The lights were dim and colored warm amber. There were comfortable looking benches, covered with thick, dark colored tapestry style fabrics in Mandalorian patterns. Dark metal bas-relief art hung on the wall. Silver mixed with bronze and even heirloom _beskar_ to recreate scenes of battles. Every curve and feature on the metal reflected yellow and orange light from the lamps, making them seem almost alive. In between the images hung heavy curtains tied to the walls in bundles. The decorations created a comforting, homey feel to the place. 

There were a couple of _verd’e_ waiting around for a seat, or waiting for the rest of their party. They weren’t part of Jaster’s Headhunters, but they still recognized him; his armor was distinctive on purpose. They tapped their closed fists to their chests in salute. He returned the gesture with a nod and kept moving. 

“ _Mand’alor_ ,” the host said, tapping their chest in salute. It was Taan, one of the owner’s adult _ad’e_.

“Taan,” Jaster said with a smile. It couldn’t be seen under his bucket, so he nodded in a way that expressed his pleasure at seeing the young man. 

“You _ad_ commed ahead. We have seats for you and your _aliit_.”

“ _Vor entye_.” Jaster stepped closer to follow him into the restaurant proper. He gave Jango a nod of thanks as they moved. That was a good bit of forethought. 

The decor continued in kind. In addition, there were other pieces of art along the walls here as well. Beautifully wrought metal plates and dishes, and faded tapestries alternated with the _beskar_ reliefs. Shining metal windchimes hung from the ceiling, high enough to bother only the tallest of people. It somehow made the space feel cozy, despite the large size of the room.

The tables were large half circles. Chairs lined the curved side of the half circle, with the flat edge facing the center of the room. All the better for those eating to watch the action. The focal point of the room was a large circular fighting arena. Not as big as the training yard at the palace, nor even half its size, but large enough that two fighters would have a good amount of room to get into a brawl. There were several rings of tables around the center pit; the ones closest were the largest, with the rest varying in size. Off to one side of the room was a bar that ran the full length of the restaurant. 

This place was never really empty, but Jaster had timed things so that it wasn’t really full yet, either. He noticed familiar sets of armor all around the room; his Headhunters, come to guard them and watch the _ad’e_ and the _jetiise_ react.

As they wound their way through the room towards one of the larger front row tables, Taan said quietly to him, “ _Mand’alor_ , you’re gonna want to go talk to my _buir_. She’s gonna be ticked at the _jetiise_.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jaster said with a sigh. “Thanks for the heads up anyways.”

Taan just nodded and waved them all towards their table.

Jaster took one of the seats near the middle of the table. He’d briefly debated about sitting at the end instead, in an attempt to stop the _verd'ike_ from jumping right into the fighting ring, but then decided that if they were determined to take part there was nothing he could do about it and he might as well keep his dignity rather than be run over.

On his left was Jango. Ben was on his right, followed by Cody, then Obi-wan, then the _jetiise_. The rest of the _vod’e_ filled in the remaining seats. 

“ _Buir_ , are we really gonna watch fighting?” Boil asked excitedly. 

Jaster nodded. “While we eat, there’ll be exhibitions of skill. _Buir_ Az’okk keeps sword dancers on staff, and they perform all the traditional stuff. Later, when the night crowd gets in, they’ll open the floor to fighters who want to test each other.”

He took off his _buy’ce_ and his _ad’e_ followed suit. 

“They serve classic dishes here, special foods,” Jaster explained. “We can make some requests, but a lot of the time what’s served is just what’s served.”

“Force, this is gonna be great,” Crys said. Wooley and Waxer nodded along.

All of the _vod’e_ looked around with eyes alight with wonder and curiosity. Ben and the older _jetiise_ were a bit more polite about their staring. 

He glanced over to the bar. Just as he was looking, an older woman in well-made embroidered clothes caught his eye. _Buir_ Az’okk. She stared right at him and raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“I’ll order us some drinks. Be right back.” Jaster stood up and headed towards the bar to be grilled.

He held his bucket under his arm and headed over. As he walked away, he could hear Jango telling the rest of them about the sword dances and what they meant. 

_Buir_ Az’okk tapped her heart with her fist when he got close enough to be in conversation range, and started off with exactly what he was expecting.

“ _Jetiise, Mand’alor_? Really?” Her thick, curly hair had long since gone white, though her face only hosted a few well worn wrinkles. 

Her _beskar_ bracers were painted green and black, and her black clothes were embroidered with green, gold, and pink mythosaur skulls and flowers. Black for justice, green for duty, gold for vengeance, and pink for respect. The bracers were part of her standard wear. The embroidery colors she'd chosen to wear might be a bit of a challenge, and implied that she forcefully felt she should be respected. Or that she was viciously and protectively paying respect to someone else.

Or it was possible she just liked the look. With _Buir_ Az’okk, it could go either way.

He raised an eyebrow at her outfit. “Making a point?”

She rolled her eyes at him and started pulling out glasses.

“No more than you are. Hells, Jaster. Are all of those children your new _ad’e_?” 

Jaster wasn’t sure if she was questioning his sanity about adopting so many children all at once, or if she was commenting on the fact that one of them was a _jetii_. Both, probably.

She leaned over his shoulder to get a look at his table. Jaster was reasonably tall. Not a giant like Dooku, but taller than most. _Buir_ Az’okk was at least a full head shorter than him, making the strain to see around him more apparent. He shifted to the side to let her have a better view. She glared at him, though there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

“Most. The littlest one is _vod_ to one of mine, and the _jetiise_ are his _buir’e_.”

 _Buir_ Az’okk stopped to stare at him with growing glee. 

“These are your _in-laws_ ,” she said with ill-contained excitement.

He groaned and rubbed his face. “It’s not like that. You know I’m not the type to take a _riduur_.”

“Nevertheless, they are _aliit_ to your _aliit_ ,” she said with a smug smile. 

She went back to pouring drinks, at least. Jaster recognized one as his own favorite cocktail, a mix of sweet, green fruit juices and a shot of burning liquor distilled from plant leaves. 

After another minute of working in silence, she said, “So you really did adopt a _jet’ika_.”

“I did,” he said. “Before even knowing me, he and his _vod’e_ jumped into a firefight to save me and my _aliit_. They are all _mandokar’la_ , and better fighters than a lot of _verd’e_ I know. They’re good kids,” he added softly. “And they’ve been through hell.”

She nodded as if his words had only confirmed something she’d already heard. 

“Full _beskar’gam_ , when they’re so little,” she noted quietly. 

Most _ad’e_ didn’t get a full set until they turned thirteen. Jaster’s _ad’e_ were small enough that thirteen would be a hell of a stretch for any of them. 

“Yeah. They’re all combat vets.” He grimaced. 

“Like Jango?”

“Worse. Kriff, about a thousand times worse.”

She pushed his drink across the bar towards him and he gratefully took a hearty swallow. 

Knowing that Ben and the _vod’e_ had once been adults only made their story slightly more palatable. It was easier for him to justify allowing most of their dangerous activities because he knew that mentally, emotionally, they were adults with a lifetime of experience and skill. He also knew damn well that he couldn’t really stop them from doing anything; the best he could do was bargain with them. So there was that. 

He knew how bad it looked from the outside. Child soldiers. The _vod’e_ were _ten_ , and Ben was _twelve_. His guts twisted just thinking about it in those terms.

 _Buir_ Az’okk was busy checking the table out while she made the drinks. She was such an old hand at this that she didn’t need to bother to look at where anything was. The drinks, Jaster knew, would be appropriate for _ad’ike_. _Buir_ Az’okk lived up to her moniker and treated every _ad_ like her own. 

“Those little _verd’ike_ have Whistling Birds,” she commented and her eyes widened in astonishment. 

“The Clan Armorer _loves_ them,” Jaster said with a laugh. “Kark, she apprenticed Wooley. The rest of them follow along like ducklings, helping him with his lessons and soaking up every word she says.”

“Really.” _Buir_ Az’okk frowned, but in a way that showed that she was impressed. “Even the unarmed one?”

“Ben. He’s got a _jetii’kad_. Knows how to use a blaster, but won’t carry one.”

 _Buir_ Az’okk snorted in contempt.

“I know,” Jaster said with a sigh. “I’ll work on it when they’re… a little more settled in. They’re jumpy.”

She hummed and worked on the drinks. 

“And the _jet’ika_?”

“Ben’s _vod_. He’s been better cared for by the _jetiise_ of the Order than Ben was. Good thing, too, otherwise my other _ad’e_ would steal my damn ship and go kidnap him, and then I’d have nine new _ad’e_ instead of eight,” he said wryly.

That got her to chuckle. 

“You’re laughing, but they would. Without a damn second wasted,” Jaster bitched. “Kriff, they’d never get caught, and would probably light the place on fire on their way out.”

That just made her laugh more. Jaster allowed himself a small smile. _Buir_ Az’okk followed the _Resol’nare_. She’d listen to him because he was her _Mand’alor_ , but he’d rather she _wanted_ to follow him.

They’d been friends a long time. Jaster would have wanted her acceptance and approval just because of that. He also wanted it because where she went, many of the traditionalists in the community would follow. Rumors would spread, positive ones if Jaster was able to make a good impression. The resistance against the _jetiise_ would wane, at least a little, and Ben would be safer on Mandalore. 

_Buir_ Az’okk loaded all of the drinks up onto a tray and waved over one of the wait staff to pick it up. She’d added a refill for Jaster’s drink as well. A few quickly spoken words detailed out where she wanted the drinks to go, and then the waiter was off to distribute. Jaster had learned long ago that it was worth it to let _Buir_ Az’okk pick what she thought would be best to drink. It was often spot on, and it made her soft on special requests later. 

“You trust the _jetiise_?” she asked as she wiped her hands down with a bar towel. 

“My _ad_ I trust with my life,” Jaster said immediately. “His _vod’ika_ is a little ball of kindness and doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘caution’. He’s gonna give his _buir’e_ about a million grey hairs.” He sipped his drink and thought over his next words carefully. “The _jetii'buir’e_ , I trust enough to wait and learn more. Everything I have seen so far says that they are honorable men. The _jetiise_ guarded our backs well during the Death Watch campaign. Dooku, the tall one, he stormed the gates of the enemy camp straight on, putting himself in front of _mando’ad’e_. Two of his knights were nearly crippled protecting _verd’e_.”

“And the rest of the _jetiise_?”

Jaster tilted his head in a half shrug. “Time will tell. But I’m… hopeful.”

She flicked his shoulder with the bar towel. “Idealist.”

He harrumphed at her and rolled his eyes. “Hardly.”

“Those _verd’ike_ of yours look like they are about ready to jump into the pit.” _Buir_ Az’okk was peeking over his shoulder again.

Jaster let out a groan. “I’ll be lucky if I can stop them.”

“They’re _ad’ike_!” she said, scandalized.

“They’re _mandokar’la_ , and more dangerous than they look. Hells, even the _jetiise_ might jump in for a fight, later. If we can convince them to leave their little _jet’ika_.”

That made _Buir_ Az’okk narrow her eyes. “They don’t trust you?”

Jaster shook his head. “Both Ben and his _vod'ika_ find trouble like others breathe air. Effortlessly. Maybe I’ll have a couple of the _vod’e_ sit on them,” he added musingly.

 _Buir_ Az’okk laughed and waved him off. “I’ll send over food.”

“ _Vor entye_ ,” he said, and made his way back to the table. 

That conversation had gone slightly better than he expected. Faced with a half-score of adorable little _verd’ike_ , _Buir_ Az’okk had folded. He’d expected the questions about the _jetiise_. She hadn’t kicked them all out, though. Nor did she seem angry, or offer for one of the _jetiise_ to have an ‘accident’ in the fighting ring. 

All positive results.

As he sat down, Jango was explaining to Obi-wan what he was drinking -- a fruit juice mix, apparently -- and the _vod’e_ were speculating wildly about the fighting ring. 

“We could clean house, is all I’m saying,” Crys wheedled.

“Obviously,” Longshot scoffed. “But would they even let us in the ring? We’re still little. _Buir_ didn’t even want us out on most of the Death Watch battles.”

Jaster pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kark,” he muttered. Of _course_ he didn’t want his _ten year old ad’ike_ out on combat missions hunting down terrorists who had no problem killing innocents and children.

Ben patted his arm. “It’s alright, _buir_. They know not to cause any permanent damage when taking part in exhibition matches like this. Helix would skin them.”

“In a hot second,” Helix confirmed with a glare. 

“There’s gonna be some pretty big _verd’e_ fighting,” Jango said a touch hesitantly. “I mean, not all of them, but there’s always at least one or two who look like moving mountains. This fighting is bare knuckle. Definitely no armor and usually no shirts. Sometimes there’s knife fighting.”

The younglings only got more excited with each word.

“Are you trying to rile them up?” Jaster asked Jango in mild frustration.

“That was a forgone conclusion, _Mand’alor_ ,” Dooku said with dry amusement. 

“And are you going to be jumping in the ring, Grandmaster?” Ben asked with a look so innocent that Jaster just knew Ben _had_ to be starting trouble on purpose.

“Tempting,” Dooku said. For the life of him, he really did look tempted. So did Sifo-Dyas. 

“Did you bring your extendable staff?” Dooku turned to ask Sifo-Dyas.

Sifo-Dyas nodded. “And my wushan blade.”

“Wait, what?” Cody asked. 

“What?” Sifo-Dyas looked at him and blinked. 

“You have other weapons on you?” Cody sounded stunned and suspicious. As though the mere idea of a _jetii_ carrying more than a _jetii'kad_ went against everything he knew.

Now the rest of the _vod’e_ and Ben turned to stare at the older _jetiise_.

“Absolutely,” Dooku replied. He raised an eyebrow at them, as if they were the crazy ones for even asking. “As useful as a lightsabre is, it is not always the best weapon for the job.”

Cody dropped his jaw and flung up his hands in outrage, and then he turned to stare holes into Ben’s head.

Ben squirmed just the tiniest bit.

“I was taught that a lightsabre is the only weapon that a Jedi needs carry regularly. Of course, I take something else along, if the situation calls for it, but Jedi are peacekeepers. We don’t inspire serenity by being armed to the teeth. Besides, the Force is with us,” he said primly.

Dooku gave Ben a flat look, while Sifo-Dyas very gently covered his mouth with the back of his hand, as if he was stifling laughter. Then Dooku shook his head and muttered something under his breath, too quiet for Jaster to hear.

“You should always carry _at least_ one more weapon on you,” Dooku said in admonishment. “Even if it is just a small vibroblade in your boot.”

“We are _diplomats_ ,” Ben countered.

“And as such we should be prepared for any treachery possible, as politicians are the most evil, vile group of people in the galaxy,” Dooku said disapprovingly. 

“Most of the Order doesn’t agree with you.” Ben looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Simply because other people insist on being morons doesn’t mean that I must follow their example.” Dooku sniffed disdainfully. 

“Master Yoda doesn’t carry an extra weapon.”

“Master Yoda is a _troll_. He survives on being contrary, as you well know.”

At this point, the _vod’e_ had dissolved into giggling like maniacs, and Jaster and Jango were both snickering into their drinks.

Ben and Dooku glared at each other, until Dooku sighed.

“We’ll find you something discreet, Ben, don’t worry,” Dooku said with the air of someone comforting a victim of some great tragedy. 

That just made the _vod’e_ laugh harder.

Ben looked deeply unimpressed. 

“I think the problem here is that Ben was trained as a Consular and Master Dooku as a Guardian,” Sifo-Dyas said.

“What’s the difference?” Jaster asked, curious.

“Consulars are the more political of the three branches of knights,” Ben explained. “We are extensively trained in diplomacy and are dedicated to spreading peace and harmony throughout the galaxy.”

“Guardians are trained for battle, and are sent to places that require a strong arm,” Dooku said with a wry smirk. “While Consular missions often start as purely peaceful ones, Guardians are expected to find themselves in life or death situations every single mission.”

“You’re the warrior branch of a sect of people that are already warrior monks,” Jaster said, putting the pieces together. 

“What’s the other group?” Obi-wan asked. “You said th’re are the talky people like Ben, and the stabby ones like you. What’s the third group?”

Crys and Boil cackled at the description of Dooku being ‘stabby’. Jaster smothered a snicker of his own. It wasn’t a bad summary of characteristics. 

“Sentinels,” Master Sy said. “They follow a combative school of thought, just as the Guardians do, but split their skill set between martial expertise and exploration of the Force. They also specialize in other skills. Medicine, mechanics, slicing, demolitions, negotiation… Whatever is needed.”

Obi-wan’s face lit up with excitement and awe.

“You’re a Sentinel,” Jango guessed.

Sifo-Dyas grinned at him. “Got it in one. We’re often considered the balance between the other two branches.”

“Ben’s master was no doubt a Consular,” Dooku said with a small grimace. “Clearly, he was trained in that school of thought.”

Jaster narrowed his eyes. Dooku knew something about Ben’s master. Ben himself still wasn’t talking; probably because he knew that Jaster and Jango might decide to go find the man and punch his teeth out. It seemed likely that having discovered something on the subject, Dooku had decided to keep quiet as well.

Maybe he’d talk more if Jaster got him drunk again.

“Consulars are significantly more focused on peaceful resolutions. Generally,” Sifo-Dyas said. “Though there are a few who tend to get into as much trouble as any Guardian.”

The _vod’e_ all eyed Ben with a mix of expressions ranging from fond to exasperated to tired. 

“I’m not that bad,” Ben protested weakly. 

Obi-wan leaned around Cody to pat Ben’s arm. “It’s not always your fault things keep blowin’ up. Only some of the time.”

That just caused more laughter all around the table.

Ben heaved a large sigh and patted Obi-wan’s hand right back. “Thank you, Obi-wan.”

Obi-wan smiled brilliantly at him.

“I thought you said that you did all the diplomacy stuff, too?” Crys asked Dooku after the giggling had quieted down.

“I have,” Dooku said with a nod towards him. “I have cultivated a wide variety of skills. It also became quickly apparent to me after taking Qui-Gon as my padawan learner that his path would always be dedicated to peacekeeping. I made myself proficient at those skills so that I could properly train and support him.”

Jaster was a little impressed.

“Did you have another Master teach him the finer points?” he asked. That’s what he would have done. Learn the basics to help teach the _ad_ , and then find a specialist for the advanced stuff.

“I did. Luckily, his predilection for negotiation was discovered early. There was time to train both of us before we started taking missions together. Qui-Gon’s senior padawan years were dedicated nearly entirely to diplomacy missions.” 

Before Dooku could elaborate, a server showed up with the first round of food. 

There was a large stack of _shuner_ ; flat, circular disks of bread that were used to dip in thick sauces and pastes. Along with the _shuner_ were several dishes. There were three with standard dark red grain curries, with each likely being a different level of spice. Two held thick white paste, which Jaster knew was a chilled, savory herb and yogurt dip. One dish had bite sized pieces of fried meats. Two more had spiced, roasted flower heads. 

All of it was delicious. _Buir_ Az’okk’s kitchen was well loved.

The _vod’e_ fell on the appetizers like they’d never seen food before. Conversation quieted as everyone ate. Dishes were passed around so that everyone got a taste of everything. It was incredibly sweet; Jaster was oddly touched by that little gesture of inclusion. Manners for most Mandalorians varied depending on their personality and their _aliit_ , but the _vod’e_ made sure no one was left behind or left without.

Just as they’d polished those dishes off, the main meal arrived. There was another plate of _shuner_ , a much smaller one than the first round. With it were more dishes to dip the bread in, but this time they were slow-cooked chunks of meat in heavy sauce. There was a large platter of roasted nerf; each piece was crusted with herbs and skewered on long, thin metal sticks. Bowls of baked tubers and steamed vegetables soaked in dark, fermented chili sauce were served with trays of _tiingilar_.

The scent of all that food was heady, and it made Jaster’s eyes sting. Partially because this was the scent of _home_ to him, and partially because some of those dishes were so kriffing spicy that just the aroma of them was enough to make him want to cry.

He grinned, and applied himself to his meal. He and Jango explained what was in each dish and made recommendations. It seemed that _Buir_ Az’okk had remembered that there were _ad’ike_ at the table; not everything was spicy enough to make the eyes bleed. Only a couple of dishes were. 

Obi-wan avoided everything that smelled like it might be too much, and quickly discovered that he loved the chilled savory yogurt dip. _Everything_ on his plate got dipped into it. The _vod’e_ tried each new food with enthusiasm. Even the _jetiise_ tried most of the foods; Dooku avoided the ones with the most spice, citing that he preferred to let his taste buds live to see the next day. Nearly everyone had watering eyes and flushed faces. There were smiles to go with those signs of discomfort, so Jaster assumed that they were enjoying the meal as much as he was. 

Partway through the main course, two young _verd’e_ stepped into the ring, one man and one woman. Both were dressed in traditional garb; clothes that hugged the arms and legs, with the shirts and jackets long enough to reach the knees. One was dressed in a deep forest green and the other dark blue. They had on tall armored boots, _beskar_ bracers, and thick plated necklaces that were a cross between jewelry and armor. The fabric of their clothing was richly embroidered. One _verd_ 's had flowers of various kinds and the other had geometric shapes. Both had relatively short hair, and sported the thick, dark curls that many of the human _mando’ad’e_ had.

They carried _beskad’e_ with them, one each. With their weapons in hand, they tapped their fists to their chest, first towards Jaster, who returned the gesture, and then towards each other.

“Is this a fight?” Obi-wan asked in a quiet voice.

The conversation in the room had quieted somewhat when the _verd’e_ had walked in, but not stopped all together. Silence wasn’t required for this sort of thing.

Jaster shook his head. “ _Nayc_. This is a sword dance. A pretty version of the training done to learn _beskad_.”

It was no surprise that everyone at Jaster’s table watched the demonstration with acute interest. He had to nudge Ben to remind him to keep eating. He, in turn, did the same thing to Obi-wan, which was adorable on a number of levels. He managed to catch Jango fiddling with his holocam out of the corner of his eye. 

The _verd’e_ in the ring flowed together in the ritual dance. It wasn’t like real fighting. Their _beskad’e_ clashed, but neither ever got close to hitting the _verd’e_. There was a great deal of beautiful sword work accompanied by feats of flexibility and control. When the demonstration was over, the room burst into cheers, with the _vod’e_ and the _jetiise_ clapping and cheering along with everyone else.

“Force, that was cool,” Boil said.

“Not practical, but very pretty,” Crys added.

“That sort of dance seems to be like lightsabre forms,” Ben said. “It’s not meant to be directly functional. Instead, it teaches specific movements and skills that can be translated to battle.”

“Got it in one, _ad_.” Jaster lightly clapped Ben on the shoulder. 

Another _verd_ had come out to perform another sword dance while they all talked among themselves. This one was a solo demonstration.

As the _vod’e_ and the _jetiise_ realized that the meal didn’t really stop for the show, they all picked up eating and chatting. 

“I can’t wait for the fights,” Longshot said in between bites. 

“You get your nose broken and I’m gonna laugh at you,” Helix said sourly. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Longshot rolled his eyes. 

“I’ll fight you, _vod_ ,” Crys offered.

Jango snorted. “You’re gonna have to. The rest of the _verd’e_ here are gonna take one look at a _ten year old_ climbing into the ring and they are gonna take a ten foot step backwards. No one wants to punch down.”

As one, the _vod’e_ seemed to pucker up with disdain. 

“We can take a full adult, any one of us,” Waxer bitched.

“They don’t know that,” Jaster pointed out.

“Give us two rounds going at each other and someone will give us a try,” Cody said. He grinned, slow and wicked. “Then we can wipe the floor with them.”

“Against _verd’e_ twice or three times your size and weight?” Jango asked.

Cody shrugged. “Shouldn’t be an issue.”

“These fights usually have some type of rules, Cody,” Ben said, pointing a piece of bread at him. “You shouldn’t be gouging people’s eyes out or destroying their joints. As effective as it might be against a larger opponent, it’s not very nice to permanently disable a sparring partner.”

Jaster snorted. Dooku and Sifo-Dyas both looked amused.

“We’ll take that into account,” Cody said, unperturbed. 

“Commander gets in the ring, and we are all gonna see a show,” Wooley said with a broad smile.

Waxer nodded sagely. “Ghost company is the best in the GAR, and the Commander regularly kicks all of our asses.”

Cody just looked a little smug.

“Hmmm. It’s a shame that Torrent isn’t here to dispute your claim.” Ben gave them all a sly look.

That immediately caused the _vod’e_ to hiss in outrage.

“I can kick the _shebs_ off of those --” Crys was saying, while Waxer talked right over him with, “Those lazy, explosion happy _di’kut’la_ \--” 

Whatever else they said was lost in the jumble of them both talking at once. Wooley looked like Ben had just stolen his drink, and Longshot, Helix, and Boil just glared.

Cody looked at all of his _vod’e_ like they’d just failed a test. 

Jaster couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Kark, _ad_ ,” he said, shaking his head.

Ben’s eyes crinkled in amusement.

Sifo-Dyas gave Ben a dryly amused look and said, “Ah, I see that my dear Master Dooku has already had an influence on you.”

Dooku barked out a short laugh. “Everyone in Master Yoda’s lineage picks up this habit. We all come by it honestly.”

“Don’t try to shift the blame,” Sifo-Dyas said in a faux stern voice.

“I would never.” Dooku looked completely serious and somehow gave the impression that he was totally full of banthashit at the same time. 

“Uh huh.” Sifo-Dyas nodded along sarcastically, which made Obi-wan giggle like mad. 

Kriff, but the _vod’e_ were right. They had to be _riduur’e_. Damn. 

Well, he could still look. 

It was nice to see everyone so relaxed. The younglings were all laughing and smiling. The _jetiise_ were allowing themselves to show their one allotted emotion of the day. 

After months of interacting with Ben and Dooku and weeks with Sifo-Dyas, Jaster had come to realize that the more relaxed the _jetiise_ were, the more likely they were to come off as something other than serene. For most _mando’ad’e_ under pressure, the default expression was either cold or murderous. _Jetiise_ apparently went for solemn and wise. Except for maybe Ben. While he was often polite and serene, he was also a bundle of sass and sarcasm. 

There were three more demonstrations as they ate their meal; two knife dances and a one featuring a _verd_ wielding a short staff. 

Dessert was fruit pudding with nectar sweetened whole berries on top.

“Force, I think I might need to get into the ring and fight just to make sure I can move after this,” Boil groaned. “Does my armor still fit? I think it might not.”

Waxer cackled and leaned an elbow on Boil’s shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll work it off at some point.”

The rest of the _vod’e_ groaned, and Helix tossed a wadded up napkin at them. 

“No throwing things at the dinner table,” Sifo-Dyas said with a stern look at them.

Before the _vod’e_ could object, Dooku shook his head. “Master Sifo-Dyas is right. Food fights in the padawan cantina are a terrifying venture. They _spread_.”

“And they all use the Force,” Sifo-Dyas said with a shake of his head.

“It gets worse than that. The initiates get the padawans involved, who drag in their sibling knights, and then it’s only a matter of time before the masters dip a hand in.” 

“You’re telling us that the Jedi masters let themselves get involved in a food fight?” Crys said skeptically. Much of the annoyance caused by Sifo-Dyas’ order to behave had settled. Jaster was a bit nonplussed about it, himself, but the _jetii_ had a point. 

Dooku and Sifo-Dyas nodded. 

“Some go hunting for ring leaders, in an attempt to stamp out the mischief,” Sifo-Dyas said. “While others just use all their skills to encourage the mayhem.” 

“On the very rare occasions where the Temple falls into an outright prank war, those with sense leave quickly,” Dooku added.

Jaster looked to Ben for confirmation, and got a nod in return. 

“It happened twice before I was knighted,” Ben said. “And three times before the war broke out. I’m sorry to say that my former padawan was in the thick of it every single time. Nowhere was safe.”

“What did the Council do?” Jango asked. He put his elbows on the table and leaned in. 

“Some conveniently had duties elsewhere, while others merely dodged the crossfire and let the junior Council members work to resolve the chaos.” There was a strange light to Ben’s eyes, a sly look that he either couldn’t quite control or didn’t bother to.

“Ah yes. Working to ‘resolve’ things,” Sifo-Dyas said knowingly.

“Rumors that a few Council members knowingly aided and abetted fugitives from the clean up crews are wildly overstated.” Ben sniffed primly.

Obi-wan giggled quietly and the _vod’e_ all looked at Ben like they could see right through his bullshit. 

“Regardless,” Ben said. “It is probably not a good idea to let Obi-wan think that throwing things at the table is a fun thing to do. Crèche Master Tinna would be unhappy.”

“It looked like fun,” Obi-wan said a bit petulantly. 

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Ben agreed. “There is just a time and a place for it, and formal dinners or any meal in the public places at the Temple are not when you should make the attempt. Also, take care to not get caught.”

Cody snorted. “That’s not gonna backfire on you at all,” he muttered. 

“If you do, there will be extra lessons and meditation,” Sifo-Dyas warned Obi-wan.

A small thread of tension running through the _vod’e_ eased, so subtle that Jaster hadn’t even been aware of it until it was gone. 

“Yes, Master Sy,” Obi-wan said dutifully. 

Jaster got the sneaking suspicion that the _vod’e_ would soon be teaching Obi-wan how to throw things and not get caught. 

The _vod’e_ subtly flashed a few hand signs at each other. Jaster chose to ignore the obvious planning going on between them. He was pretty sure that whatever they were going to get up to would only be a problem for those who had to deal with Obi-wan once he was back at the Temple. 

Servers stopped by and took away the last of the dessert dishes and left refills on the drinks. 

_Buir_ Az’okk stepped out into the center of the ring and raised up her hands for quiet. Within a moment, she had it. 

“ _Su cuy’gar_ ,” she said with a sharp grin. “ _Moruta_. Welcome to the Dancing _Beskad_. It’s time to open the ring for those who wish _akaanir_. No weapons. Bare fists only. It’s courtesy to strip your upper body of armor.” She cast a withering look around the room, as if to imply that if anyone felt they _needed_ their upper armor to fight in the ring, then maybe they shouldn’t be fighting in the ring. “No permanent damage, please. These are friendly matches. If you have a weapon dance to show, simply mention it to my _ad_ , Taan. We’ve got a medic on staff, but don’t make me call a clinic, _gedet’ye_.”

There was some scattered laughter around the room at her ‘disappointed _buir_ ’ face.

She waved them off. “Have fun, _ad’e_!”

With that, she stepped out of the ring and headed back towards the bar. 

“She always do that introduction, or are we special?” Cody asked.

“Always,” Jango replied. 

Jaster nodded. “Gotta make sure everyone knows the rules. This place has a lot of regulars, but a reminder upfront is always a good idea.” He pointed to the edges of the ring, and along the walls. “See those _verd’e_ there? The ones in green and blue with the fang emblem on their shoulders? They’re _Buir_ Az’okk’s. They’re stationed around to keep the peace if a fight gets out of hand. _Mando’ad’e_ are a hot headed group, and _Buir_ Az’okk takes no chances.”

The _vod’e_ and the _jetiise_ all nodded, though none of them looked surprised at the guards that Jaster had pointed out. No doubt they’d already noticed the bouncers; Jaster had just confirmed it for them. 

To Jaster’s surprise, none of the _vod’e_ immediately jumped out to get the first fight.

He raised an eyebrow at Cody, who just laughed.

“We wanna see the lay of the land first, _buir_ ,” he said.

That made sense. Jaster nodded and sipped his drink. He was reasonably sure that he was on his third one. The long, lingering meal had helped blunt the edge of the liquor quite a bit, but he’d be switching to water after this. Getting even a little bit tipsy wasn’t on his list of things to do in so public a place. 

The servers that _Buir_ Az’okk assigned to their table must have been keeping a close eye on them, because the moment he switched to drinking water from the other glass in front of him, a fresh pitcher of it was dropped off at the table. 

Talk sprang up around the room after the welcome speech. A few _verd’e_ started taking off their armor. 

The first one to step in the ring was a tall, lanky human. He’d stripped down to his bare chest, showing off dark skin and a few impressive looking scars. The armor plates on his legs weren’t _beskar_ , but that wasn’t particularly surprising. _Beskar_ was expensive, and almost every _verd_ picked the helmet, shoulders, and chest as their first _beskar_ pieces. Only experienced warriors and _verd’e_ that came from well off families had a full set of _beskar_ armor at a young age. 

One of the perks of being _Mand’alor_ was that Jaster could afford to outfit his _ad’e_ in the best. 

The young _verd_ spent a moment wrapping his knuckles in some cloth, and then tapped his fist to his heart and nodded towards Jaster. 

Jaster responded in kind. 

It took a couple of minutes, but another _verd_ strutted into the ring. A woman who was built like a tank. She had on her body glove, but had taken the armor plates off the top part. Her hair, skin, and eyes were cloud white. 

She gave Jaster the same salute that her opponent did, though she barely looked at him when she did it. The vast majority of her attention was on her opponent, who was already beginning to circle the edge of the ring.

Taan held up his hand, signalling both _verd’e_ to come to the center of the ring. They shook hands, Mandalorian style, with their hands clasping close to the elbow.

When Taan dropped his hand the two _verd’e_ jumped back. The fight was on.

It didn’t last terribly long. The shirtless _verd_ was quick on his feet. He was outmatched in strength; everyone in the room could see it. Every hit the woman took, she shrugged off. Her hits rarely landed, but when they did, they looked like they hurt. 

The crowd around them cheered and called out. Credit chips were held up and tossed onto tables as people placed bets. 

Both of the _verd'e_ were bloody and grinning by the end of the fight. The smaller one managed to catch the burly one in a choke hold, and she tapped out. Groans of disappointment mixed with clapping and congratulatory yells. 

Taan walked out to check on fighters as they eased their way back up to standing. After a quick once over of both of them, he held up the winner’s arm. Another loud cheer went up around the room, and then the fighters made their way out of the ring.

Jaster watched his _ad’e_ and the _jetiise_ closely. 

Dooku and Sifo-Dyas watched with mild amusement, and Obi-wan looked a bit appalled. 

The _vod’e_ , unsurprisingly, were watching with rapt attention. Cody seemed a bit disappointed. There was a small frown on his face. Ben was giving him a knowing look.

“What’s wrong, _ad_?” Jaster asked.

“I donno,” Cody said, giving his jaw a contemplative rub. “I guess I expected better from them.”

Jaster and Jango both snorted, while the _vod’e_ just cackled. 

“Not everyone is as well trained as you and the _vod’e_ are, my dear Cody,” Ben said with amusement. 

“I know, I know.” Cody rolled his eyes. There was a hint of a smile on his lips now and if the light were better, Jaster wondered if he’d be able to see a blush on his cheeks. 

_My dear Cody_. 

Jaster smothered a laugh and sipped his water instead. 

While they'd been talking, two more fighters had found their way to the ring and the process repeated itself. The crowd had settled in for the evening, so much of the talking continued on even through the entertainment. 

“It’s a lot like how we spar,” Waxer said. 

“Yeah, except we go way harder.” Boil shook his head. 

Kark. No wonder Helix was so annoyed at them all the time. Jaster made a mental note to get more bacta delivered to their room. Just in case. 

“You alright, Cadet?” Cody asked.

Obi-wan was watching the current fight with a look of unhappy confusion. “I don’ understand. Why are they fighting like that? It’s not gonna make them better. Their form’s bad. Master Drallig says ‘Per-fect practice makes per-fect’, ‘cause if you are practicing bad then you’re learning bad habits. ‘Nd if they aren’t getting better, why do they need to be so rough?”

He leveled an absolutely lethal expression on the table. Wide, pleading eyes with a dash of hope and trust that the rest of them would be able to explain this in a way that would make sense. 

Jaster held back a wince. Obi-wan was a bit young to go to something like this. He’d neatly forgotten that fact, because like the _vod’e_ and Ben, he didn’t really act his age. At least, not all the time. 

“There are few things that can simulate the feeling of a real fight,” Ben answered. “Drills are good, as is sparring. Fighting against an opponent that can and will actually _hurt you_ is a very different matter. The body reacts differently. It’s better to test that experience out in a safe way before getting tossed into a life or death situation. This type of sparring won’t happen for you until you’re a padawan.”

Then he grimaced and sipped his drink.

If anything, Obi-wan looked sadder. 

“That’s not how it was with us, with you, was it?” he asked.

“No.”

“There were pirates…” Obi-wan furrowed his brow.

Ben set down his glass and held out a hand across Cody’s front to reach towards Obi-wan, who immediately took hold of it. Without needing to be asked, Cody made room for them. 

“You don’t need to think about this if you don’t want to,” Ben said. “Those aren’t your memories.”

“You killed people before you were a padawan,” Obi-wan said. “They made you leave the Temple and your ship was attacked and you killed people.”

“To save others, yes.”

Jaster swallowed around the lump in his throat. Anger burned in his chest and he struggled to hold it in. He knew that Ben and Obi-wan were the same person, displaced by time. He also knew that the little one was having visions of Ben’s life, and that they were all bonded together somehow. There were things that Obi-wan had mentioned over the course of his stay, little bits of Ben’s life that he’d asked about. Nearly every one of them had been rage inducing. 

The _kriff_ had Ben’s life been like, anyways?

And now a five-year-old had all of those awful memories running through his head, too. 

A glance up at the _jetiise_ showed that Dooku’s face had gone tight and cold, his upset visible even beyond his personal control. Sifo-Dyas just looked immeasurably sad, though he was trying to smile. 

Jango looked grim but not surprised. He’d had a rough introduction to death, too, when his birth _aliit_ had been killed by Death Watch. Knowing him, he was thinking about that now. How his _buir’e_ had helped Jaster and how Death Watch had killed them for it, along with his _ori'vod_. Jango was the one who’d set the bomb on Tor Vizsla’s speeder, resulting in the explosion that they’d all thought had killed the _shabuir_.

Jaster put his hand on Jango’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. A little of the tension left Jango’s body and he managed a tight smile of thanks. 

Cody had leaned into Obi-wan, wrapping him in a one-armed hug, which gave Ben room to scoot forward and be a little closer to Obi-wan as well. 

“You’ve fought like this,” Obi-wan said. His face scrunched up in confusion. “We fought?”

Ben shook his head. “Just me. You haven’t had those experiences, and there’s a good chance you never will.”

“We all fight like this, Cadet,” Cody said. “We train regularly, like you and Master Sifo-Dyas and Master Dooku do, but we spar rough like this, too. Just like the General said. It’s good practice to feel what a real fight is like.”

But Obi-wan shook his head. “No. I mean, yeah, but no.”

Ben closed his eyes and dipped his head, as if he knew what was coming and it was something he wasn’t looking forward to. 

“There was an arena.” Obi-wan squinted, clearly searching his memory.

“There were several over the years,” Ben said with a nod. 

“I mean, after the pirates. In the mine. There was fighting pits.” 

Ben winced. “There were.”

Jaster went back to drinking his liquor. 

_Karking kriffing what the **kriff**_.

The mine. Where Ben said he’d been held as a slave. As a _child_.

“Please tell me that you weren’t forced into a fighting arena before you were made a padawan,” Cody said tightly.

Ben didn’t say anything. The silence spoke for him.

Obi-wan lunged forward and caught Ben in a hug. 

“It was a long time ago, Obi-wan,” Ben said soothingly. He rubbed a hand up and down Obi-wan’s back. The little one was nearly sitting in Cody’s lap. Not that it looked like Cody minded; he and the rest of the _vod’e_ looked ready to vent someone’s spleen. 

Jaster was right there with them. 

“That won’t happen to you, Obi-wan,” Dooku said, radiating cold intent. “We’ll make sure of it.”

Obi-wan hugged Ben a little tighter. 

“Are you alright?” Ben asked after a minute.

Obi-wan sniffled and rubbed his face. When he pulled back, he had the most determined face that Jaster had ever seen on a five year old. 

“I’m gonna watch the fights so I’ll know what to do,” Obi-wan said grimly.

That made them all wince.

All except Ben, who just nodded. “Excellent idea. I’ll help. While we watch, I’ll tell you the easiest way to counter some attacks, and what to do if you’re without the Force while in a fight like this.”

The liquor curdled in Jaster’s stomach. If Ben knew what to do in a pit fight while being Force suppressed, that meant that at least one of those past experiences had trained him for that.

“Cody, would you mind switching seats with me? It’ll be easier to talk to Obi-wan if we’re next to each other.”

Cody gave Ben a horrified look, like Ben had just suggested that Cody toss his armor in a trash compactor, or maybe melt down his favorite blaster.

“General,” Cody said.

Ben gave Cody a tired look, but before he could say anything, Obi-wan was already out of his seat.

“Just switch with me, Cody. Then you can still sit next to me ‘nd I can sit next to Ben, too.”

“How about you just sit on my lap?” Cody countered. 

Obi-wan shook his head. “Nope.”

Now Cody turned his wounded expression on Obi-wan.

As upset as the subject at hand had made Jaster, he still had to stifle a huff of amusement.

“Why not?” Cody asked, a touch unhappily.

“‘Cause we should be able to move if we need to,” Obi-wan said. “I can’t do that if I’m on your lap.”

“He’s got a point,” Waxer said.

Jaster wanted to object, but he really couldn’t. Even as _Mand’alor_ , going out in public on his own wasn’t a huge risk for him. Not like it was now with a pack of _jetiise_ in tow and tensions still high from the Death Watch uprising. He wanted to say that the risk to them was negligible. There were lots of _verd’e_ around them, many of whom were his own Headhunters. 

It was a sensible precaution. Cody must have thought so, too, because he didn’t argue further. He did look grumpier than usual. Obi-wan gave him a hug once they were resettled and that seemed to mollify the little commander.

Meanwhile, the fight in the ring had come to an end. Jaster saluted the next pair in, and settled back in his chair to listen to Ben quietly discuss tactics with Obi-wan. 

The _vod’e_ and Jango had taken up discussion of who would fight first and what precautions the rest of them would take. 

What was most interesting was the somewhat wistful look on Dooku’s face as he watched the fights.

Jaster caught his attention and raised an eyebrow, and nodded towards the ring. If the _jetii_ wanted a fight then there would be more than one _verd_ who would accommodate.

Dooku shook his head. “I do not wish to intrude, _Mand’alor_. I have been invited to watch, not participate. I will not risk a political gaffe and bring both of us headaches just for the sake of a bit of fun.”

That was a solid point. Some of the more traditional _mando’ad’e_ might see him jumping in without express invitation as an insult. Most would just happily take the chance to punch him in the face. 

If Dooku were _invited_ , though… That idea had some merit. Jaster tried to avoid getting into the ring in places like this. He enjoyed it well enough, but there were clan politics to think of. Most of the time, his people needed him to be impartial. Sometimes it was important for him to be seen publicly sparring with his _verd’e_ , beyond his regular training with his companies. They all enjoyed it, it kept his skills sharp, and it fostered positive relations. The _Mando’ad’e_ liked to know that their _Mand’alor_ didn’t think himself above them. There were a lot of politics to weigh.

All of that hassle might be worth it to get in a brawl with the _jetii_. 

By the time the next round of fighters was finishing up, Crys and Longshot were stripping out of their upper armor.

Jaster wanted to facepalm. 

“You’re really gonna do this, _ad’e_?” he asked.

“Kriff, yes,” they both said at the same time, earning them a flat look from Sifo-Dyas and a giggle from Obi-wan. 

“It’ll be fine, _buir_ ,” Crys said as he rolled down his body glove to tie the arms around his waist. 

“Take off your blasters, too,” Jango said. “No blasters in the ring.”

They did so without qualm. 

The moment the ring cleared, Crys and Longshot made their way in.

The room quieted. To Jaster’s knowledge, no _ad’e_ that young had ever tried to get into the ring. It was a good thing they went in as a pair, because the muttering in the room told him that the _verd’e_ didn’t quite know what to think of it. 

Crys and Longshot both tapped their fists to their hearts in salute, which Jaster returned gravely.

There in the bright lights over the ring, Crys and Longshot’s scars became more apparent. They each sported a couple of serious looking ones. Crys’ torso bore two long, thin lines that stretched from pectoral down to his hip, and Longshot had what was clearly a blaster burn on his upper arm.

Jaster didn’t want to think about how they’d gotten them. He was already fighting off his temper from what he’d learned of Ben’s past.

Helix raised two fingers, pointed them at his own eyes, and then pointed them at Crys and Longshot. That gesture along with a glare was enough to express that he had his eye on them and they’d better not kriff up. The rest of the _vod’e_ looked on with a similar amount of grim glee. 

“This should be very entertaining,” Ben said quietly. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jaster saw Darist and Kree at the bar, exchanging credits. Darist looked smug as hell. Because of course his second would bet on the _vod’e_ jumping into a fighting pit.

It took a moment for Taan to start the fight. He kept looking at Jaster to see if he would put a stop to this. As if Jaster could stop them from fighting when they really wanted to.

Maybe they would listen to him here, in such a public setting, if he gave them a good reason not to. There wasn’t one. They might as well have at it. Cody liked to call the _jetiise_ overly dramatic, but the _vod’e_ shared that tendency as well.

All of the amused and vaguely scandalized muttering around the room went dead silent the moment the fight began in earnest. Not because the fight had started, but because Crys and Longshot had launched themselves at each other with a ferocity that more than rivaled that of any pair of adult _verd’e_.

They punched and feinted back and forth, each movement precise and filled with deadly momentum. These were strikes that were intended to _hit_ and hit _hard_. The style was weirdly reminiscent of the hand-to-hand training that _mando’ad’e_ received. Some of the movements were the same, the strikes looked the same, but the flow was different. Every motion was economised for brutal efficiency. 

Crys stepped out of the way of what would have been a jarring punch to the face, and moved forward, into Longshot’s space. A quick spin followed, and then Longshot was flying across the ring. The _verd’e_ watching gasped and the _vod’e_ smirked.

Longshot hit the ground in a roll and sprang back up onto his feet. He grinned at his _vod_ , vicious and sharp.

“Awww, I didn’t know you wanted to dance,” Longshot taunted.

“Pity you’re not up for it, _vod_ ,” Crys countered with a faux-pout. 

Apparently, that was the cue to step the intensity up another notch. Punching and dodging turned into kicking, throwing, and wrestling as the two of them eeled in and out of punishing holds and barely slipped by hits that would destroy joints.

Eventually, they ended up in a wickedly fast ground fight, the pair of them grappling with one another and scoring vicious hits to stomach, shoulders, and face. 

The match ended with Crys on his stomach. His face was pressed into the floor by Longshot’s knee and one arm was pulled back behind him. A little more force used and Longshot could snap it at any place he wanted. 

“Kark you,” Crys said, spitting out a little blood.

Longshot snickered and leaned back a bit, tightening his hold on Crys’ arm and flexing it back in the wrong direction. “Excuse me, what was that?”

“Yield, yield! I swear to the kriffing Force, you _di’kut’la shabuir_ piece of --”

Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by Longshot releasing him and rolling backwards up to his feet, cackling like a hyena. Blood flowed freely down his nose and from a cut along his eyebrow.

Crys stood up and wiped the blood off of his face with bruised knuckles. He looked a touch surly from his loss, but he was grinning too. They both were. 

The crowd had finally decided that this was fantastic, and the room roared with approval. Likely because both _ad’ike_ didn’t appear to be seriously injured and both looked like they’d had the time of their lives. Jaster knew that it would have been a different story if the bout had been less controlled or if it had ended poorly. 

Taan raised Longshot’s arm in victory. The cheers from the _vod’e_ could be heard over the rest of the crowd, with Ben and Obi-wan joining in as well. The _jetiise_ clapped and smiled, or smirked in Dooku’s case.


	2. Chapter 2

\--- POV: Jaster Mereel ---

Once the younglings were out of the ring, Taan called for a short break as the floor was disinfected. Standard procedure for fights that spilled blood. 

“Not bad, _vod’e_ ,” Helix said, checking them both over. “No broken bones. Good.”

Cody started taking off his upper armor.

“You going in next, _ad_?” Jaster asked. 

“You think I can get any of the _verd’e_ to fight me?” Cody asked in return. 

Jaster and Jango both shook their heads at the same time. 

“No one is gonna want to risk seriously hurting an _adiik_ ,” Jango said. 

“Not even after seeing that we can hold our own?” Waxer frowned, as if he was personally insulted by the idea that adults might not want to get into a serious brawl with children.

“Unlikely.” Jaster shook his head. 

One of _Buir_ Az’okk’s _ad’e_ came by with a med kit. Helix took the kit but waved away the offer of assistance. It took some extra persuasion from Jaster for the _baar’ur_ to agree to let them handle it. Helix’s obvious familiarity with the medical supplies noticeably set the medic at ease, but Jaster could tell it also worried them. 

The _baar’ur_ gave Jaster a long, unhappy look. 

“Their birth _aliit_ trained them,” Jaster said quietly.

“More comfortable watching after themselves, eh?” the _baar’ur_ said. The worry in their face flickered to grim understanding. They nodded to Jaster and then caught Helix’s gaze. “You _will_ come to me if there are complications.” Then they looked back to Jaster. “And you’ll make sure of it.”

“ _Elek_ ,” Jaster said with a solid nod. He knew that his _ad’ike_ wouldn’t need the help.

The _baar’ur_ shook their head and headed back to the bar, no doubt to relay all that had happened to _Buir_ Az’okk.

The _Vod’e_ watched that exchange with interest, keeping an eye on the _baar’ur_ until they’d moved out of the area around their table. 

“I could spar with you?” Ben offered, striking up the conversation again. He didn’t seem truly committed to the idea.

“As fun as that would be, General, it’s probably better if you stay out of the ring,” Cody said. He was all ready to fight. The _vod’e_ were looking between themselves speculatively.

“Count me out,” Helix said firmly. Cody just nodded.

“I could?” Waxer offered.

“No offense, _vod_ , but I was really hoping for a challenge,” Cody said ruefully.

Waxer moved his hands in what Jaster could only assume was some kind of rude gesture. There wasn’t even a hint of real upset in his expression, though. 

“You could give it a try,” Jaster said to Jango, elbowing him in the side.

“ _Ori’vod_?” Cody looked at Jango hopefully.

Jango looked back and forth between them and then sighed. He was grinning as he shook his head, and he started taking off his armor.

“ _Yes!_ ” Wooley punched his fist into the air. “This is gonna be great. Who wants to open the bets?”

“For kr--” Jango bit back the swear. “You’re seriously going to bet on us?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Boil asked, mystified.

“This is prime entertainment here, _ori’vod_ ,” Waxer added. 

“Ten credits says the Commander wins,” Helix said without even looking away from the butterfly bandages he was carefully putting on Longshot’s eyebrow. 

“You’re going to bet _against_ me?” Jango asked, his outrage doubled. 

All the _vod’e_ nodded.

A _verd_ walked up and saluted Jaster when he was in range. A Mirialan, with diamond tattoos zig-zagging across one cheek. His _buy’ce_ was clipped to his belt and his armor was painted orange and red. Jaster didn’t recognize the signet on his right pauldron, but the left was House Karit.

“ _Su cuy’gar, Mand’alor_ ,” the _verd_ said. “Pardon the interruption, but my _vod’e_ and I wanted to send over some drinks to the _verd’ike_.” He nodded towards Crys and Longshot.

“Kind of you,” Jaster said evenly. 

Sure enough, a waiter quickly joined them with a tray of sweet frozen fruit drinks and a bowl of sugared dough balls. The _vod’e_ looked suspicious, but Obi-Wan about bounced out of his seat.

“ _Vod’e, Vod’e_ , will you share, please?” Obi-Wan looked at Crys and Longshot with wide, pleading eyes. 

Predictably, they folded immediately. 

“Of course, Cadet,” Crys said, already pushing over one of the drinks that had just been unloaded. 

“He’s never gonna get to sleep tonight,” Waxer muttered with an indulgent smile.

Jango snorted, but didn’t dispute that fact. 

The _verd_ watched all the _ad’ike_ with _jai’galaar_ eyes, with only flickering glances towards Jaster and the adult _jetiise_. 

_Ah_. Jaster knew what this was about.

“ _Vor’e, verd_ ,” he said. “I’m sure my _ad’ike_ will appreciate something cold on their teeth.” He gave Crys and Longshot a dry look. 

“We do. _Ori’vor’e, verd_ ,” Crys said with a nod of thanks. Longshot echoed him.

The _verd_ gave them both a long, hard look, and then smirked. “You all stay out of trouble. We don’t need the _Mand’alor_ to get ulcers.”

As Jaster huffed in amusement, the _verd_ tapped their chest in salute and stalked off towards a table across the room.

Ben, Cody, and the _jetiise_ watched him walk off.

Once the _verd_ was safely out of range, Ben turned to give Jaster a raised eyebrow. “That didn’t seem like he was trying to curry favor with you.”

“He wasn’t.” Jaster shook his head and took a drink of his water. As he sipped, he covertly looked around the room. Lots of people talking to each other. That was expected in a place like this. There were also a lot of looks towards Jaster’s table. This was also expected. He also noted that his Headhunters were talking mostly with other _mando’ad’e_ , rather than each other.

After Crys and Longshot’s fight, Jaster knew exactly what they were all talking about.

“He was checking up on you all,” Jaster said. “Making sure that you were happy and alright, and that the fight wasn’t forced.”

The _vod’e_ all blinked at him. 

Jango nodded as he continued to disarm himself for his upcoming fight with Cody. “Probably won’t be the last time tonight, either. Actually…” He paused to look at Jaster. “That’s why you wanted me to fight next, isn’t it? You’re showing them that you’re treating me and your new _ad’ike_ the same, and everyone already knows that you’d rather chew glass than be _dar’buir_ to me.”

Jaster smirked and clapped Jango on the shoulder. “Nice spot, _ad_.”

“Well done, _buir_.” Ben looked at him approvingly. Dooku nodded in agreement. Sifo-Dyas just looked amused. 

“The real problem with them fighting is going to be finding someone to bet against,” Waxer said glumly.

“You could try some of the _verd’e_?” Dooku asked, politely throwing starship fuel on the fire. Both Ben and Sifo-Dyas snorted.

“My second likes to place wagers now and again,” Jaster added, pointing to Darist at the bar.

“Oh, I am on that.” Waxer wiggled his fingers at the rest of the table. “Gimme what you’re willing to bet, and I’ll go make the deal.”

“I hate you all,” Jango muttered. 

“Think of it as initiation,” Cody said, slapping Jango on the shoulder. “Every _vod_ gets his _shebs_ kicked by me.”

“He’s a terror to all the shinies,” Ben muttered with a smirk.

“Shinies?” Jango asked, raising an eyebrow.

“New _vod’e_ , fresh to the war,” Helix explained. He’d moved on to prodding Crys’ nose. It didn’t look broken, but it was definitely starting to swell. “Their armor is all shiny and new, no paint, no scuffs or blaster burns. Shiny.”

Waxer had finished collecting credit chips, miscellaneous consumable items, and various spoken IOUs. He looked up at Jaster. “ _Buir_? You want to weigh in?”

“Sith-hells no,” Jaster said, holding up both of his hands. “You kids have fun. I support you both equally.”

“Wise choice,” Ben said quietly.

Jango gave Jaster an exasperated look. The _vod’e_ didn’t seem surprised at the decision to stay out of this. 

Waxer scampered off towards the bar, with Boil right on his heels. 

\--- POV: Waxer Mereel ---

It was a satisfying feeling to have his metaphorical pockets crammed with credits and his _riduur_ at his side.

"We should start off slow," Boil suggested.

"Right. We'll have to ease Darist into the idea,” he agreed as they moved through the crowded and warmly lit establishment. “She'll probably be worried about offending _buir_.”

That was all it took. Without another word spoken, the plan had been selected and they knew their roles. They'd worked marks like this before.

Darist looked them over as they approached her, and the _verd_ at her side -- one of her Headhunters -- gave them a curious once over.

" _Verd'ike_ ," Darist greeted them. "Is something wrong?"

"Nope!" Waxer grinned up at her. " _Buir_ said you might want in on our wager."

That sent her eyebrows shooting up. "A _wager_?”

The _verd_ standing next to her made an amused sound. “Your _buir_ is allowing you to make wagers with us?”

Boil shrugged. “We'd have done it whether he knew about it or not. It seemed politer to let him in on it and offer him a stake in the winnings."

Darist exchanged an incredulous look with her friend. After a moment, she turned back to Boil and said, “I guess that's fair."

Darist’s friend chuckled. “So what's the wager, then, _verd’ike_?”

"Commander Cody is going to take on Jango in the ring,” Waxer informed them, and had to bite down hard on his laughter at the shock on their faces.

“Jango’s _what_?” Darist exclaimed. “That's hardly a fair fight.”

Her friend -- Waxer really needed to find a casual way to ask his name -- shook his head. "That's a fight with only one outcome.”

It was, and Waxer knew it, but it wasn't the outcome either of the _verd'e_ likely expected.

“Waxer,” his _riduur_ put in, right on cue, sounding just a little worried, ”maybe they're right. Maybe we are backing the wrong fighter.”

The line was baited. And very effectively, too, judging by the expressions Darist and her friend wore. In the network, in their private little space, Waxer cackled in glee. Kark, but his _riduur_ was good at this game.

"Jango outweighs your _vod_ ,” Darist pointed out helpfully, trying to explain their mistake to them, “and has a much longer reach.”

Her friend nodded. “Jango has also been training in this style of fighting since he was about your age,” he added.

It was time. Waxer went in for the kill. “Let's make a wager, then,” he suggested.

"No, _ad’ika_. I'd feel bad about winning that kind of wager.” Darist took the bait, and swallowed it whole.

Her friend grinned broadly, following her into the trap like the loyal _verd_ he was. “Oh come on, Darist,” he verbally jabbed at her, his voice teasing, “we could bet something harmless like candies. Or _uj’alayi_." 

Boil nodded. “Fine by me. I'll bet you some _uj’alayi_ that Jango loses. _Vod'e_ don't turn on their own.”

Darist eyed them a bit warily, but she nodded. “Alright, I'll take that wager. Kree, if this ends badly I'm blaming it on you.”

Waxer nodded, making note of the _verd_ ’s name. “I can agree to that. I'll wager that Jango gets two solid hits in on the Commander before he goes down. Same terms.”

Darist and Kree both offered each of them a hand to shake, making the wager formal.

Boil turned to him, instantly dropping the innocent act and grinning broadly. “Now, _ver'alor_ , you make a good point about Jango having a longer reach and about twenty kilos on the Commander, but our _vod_ is a lot faster, and has lots of experience."

"Being faster doesn't mean he'll win," Kree argued, looking reluctantly amused. "And experience is good, but without knowing what to do to take advantage of his size, that means nothing, _verd'ika_."

Waxer looked up at him, making his eyes big and round. "How does leverage work, again, Kree?"

"Well, if your center of mass is... lower... _kark_." He could see the understanding starting to dawn on Kree's face. "And your _vod_ is definitely strong enough to throw Jango, I've seen him do it before."

Waxer grinned at him. “Trust us, _verd_. Jango might not know it yet, but the Commander is gonna wipe the floor with him. And no one is going to believe it until it happens.”

Darist gaped at them. “You little--”

Kree cackled at the look on her face, and Waxer joined him. “Well done, _verd’ike_ ,” Kree managed after a moment. “Very cleverly done.”

Boil snickered. "Come on, _Vod_ , let's go see how much candy we can get out of the rest of the room.”

The pair of Headhunters exchanged rueful looks.

“When your opponents underestimate you, it makes fleecing them easy,” Waxer told them sagely, and watched them come to the conclusion that the rest of the restaurant was going to make the same mistake they had.

Their size was a major advantage when they were trying to pull off this sort of thing. Darist and the Headhunters had watched them all train together. They _knew_ that the _Vod’e_ were lethal. And they'd _still_ let appearances dictate their expectations.

Darist sighed. “Guess I'd better make sure I keep a few credits in reserve tonight. It looks like I'll be buying some _uj'alayi_.”

“Kark,” Kree shook his head in something approximating rueful sympathy. “The _Mand'alor_ is going to have a hell of a time trying to ride herd on you lot, once you come of age.”

“ _Buir_ is already having a tough time trying to do that. The Commander and the General are notoriously stubborn,” Boil pointed out. “But we'll make sure he comes through it in one piece. Don't worry. We take care of our own.”

Kree snorted. “That's not how it's supposed to go, _verd’ika_ ,” he said dryly. "We're supposed to be saying that to you."

“Haven't you figured it out yet?” Waxer teased him a bit, “We're the exception to just about every rule.”

Darist huffed at him, amused, and muttered. “I'm still not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing.”

Waxer would have answered, but his _riduur_ caught his eyes.

“Waxer,” he said, a smirk taking hold on his face that instantly alerted Waxer that the second phase of the plan was about to begin, “ _Vod_ , we could go try to get some more dessert out of _Buir_ Az'okk.”

Darist sputtered at him, then burst out laughing. “I have got to see that.”

Kree grinned broadly. “Agreed.”

“Let's save that con for later,” Waxer suggested with a shake of his head. “First, we should see what else we can get out of the other tables in the room. Not one of those _verd’e_ will be any harder to swindle than Darist was.”

“I'd be offended, but at least all you conned out of me was some dessert,” she grumbled.

Waxer smirked. “Want in on the fun? We'll offer you a cut.”

Kree looked like his lifeday had come early. “I'm in. Let's talk details.”

Boil nodded. “You handle the wagers involving credits, and we'll deal in the IOUs and promises of services rendered. Any winnings, you get five percent of, or a hundred credits, whichever is bigger.”

"Done and done,” Kree offered a hand, and Boil shook it, hand to elbow.

Waxer caught Darist’s eyes. “You want in, too?”

Darist visibly considered him, then the offer, then the effective nature of their plan, every bit the tactician that Waxer would have expected his _buir_ ’s second to be, and then nodded. “Same terms?”

Waxer nodded back and offered her his hand. “Same terms.”

Darist smirked and shook it. “If you manage to con all of them as effectively as you did us, we'll have a profitable evening.”

“That was the idea,” Boil told her, then turned to Kree. “You coming?”

Kree simply held out his hand. “Hand over the credits now,” he said, “it'll look less suspicious than if you do it later.”

It was a good addition to the plan. Had it been almost anyone else making that suggestion, Waxer would have hesitated. But Jango trusted Darist, who was definitely honest and could be counted on. And she clearly trusted Kree to keep his word and have her back.

With a shrug, Waxer counted up what he'd collected from his _Vod'e_ \-- a hundred and five credits, all told -- and split the stack in half. “Here,” he told Kree, “don't waste it.”

Kree snorted. “Yes, _buir_.”

His _riduur_ caught his eyes and grinned. They both already knew that they were both allowed to bet with the IOUs. That was the usual agreement in such situations and their _Vod'e_ knew to expect it. 

“This is going to be a good night,” Waxer commented. 

Darist shook her head at him, but she was smiling. She pointed at the ring with her chin, drawing Waxer’s attention to the fact that his Commander and _ori’vod_ had taken their places in the center of the space. “Come on, then, _verd’ika_. We should do this before the fight’s over.”

Boil grabbed for Kree’s forearm and dragged him off towards the far end of the large hall. Waxer did the same to Darist, towing her toward the other side of the large space. The two of them knew this game. To be effective they had to act the ages they appeared to be, and it wouldn't raise any eyebrows that two of their _buir_ ’s _verd’e_ were chaperoning them.

Waxer made a note to use a portion of their winnings to get their _buir_ something nice for suggesting this. It was a brilliant idea. Maybe a new vibroknife. There had been a stand with some fairly nice ones at the market they'd visited a few times now. Otherwise Ardanna would be able to point them in the right direction.

As he and Darist approached their first table, one Waxer had deliberately picked because they would make for a good group to use to show Darist how he and Boil operated, he caught his wingmate's attention and started talking. “I'm not sure you want to make that wager, _ver’alor_ ,” he said, as they got within earshot of their marks.

Darist, quick on her feet, shook her head at him and answered, “Don't worry, _ad’ika_.”

Predictably, the _verd_ nearest them turned towards them, his attention caught by what sounded like someone he could sucker into a bet. “You looking to make a wager on this match, _ver’alor_?” He asked Darist as Jango and the Commander saluted their _buir_ and waited for the _verd_ officiating the bout to signal the start of the match.

“Are you?” She shot back, sizing him up.

“I could be persuaded,” he answered with a grin. “Which of those two are you looking to wager on?”

“The younger one,” Darist replied without missing a beat.

“I'm not sure that's a good idea,” Waxer repeated. “Jango's really good.”

The _verd_ at the table chuckled. “You know what, I'll take that bet, _ver’alor_ ,” he told Darist, taking the bait, just as she had. “Are we simply wagering on who'll win?”

“I'll put ten credits on my pick,” she answered.

“Twenty says he loses.”

Darist offered her hand. And the _verd_ shook it. The other _verd'e_ at the table grinned, and, one by one, all offered Darist the same bet. One by one, she shook each hand.

Waxer shook his head, affecting disappointment. "Jango will wipe the floor with him, _ver’alor_ ," he repeated, lying through his teeth.

"I've seen your _vod_ fight before, _verd'ika_ ," Darist disagreed with him. "I'm sticking with my wager."

The _verd_ who'd taken the bet laughed. "We'll see, _ver’alor_ ," he said, sounding confident in his win. "I have to agree with the _verd'ika_. Fett is a karking good fighter."

Waxer nodded, keeping his expression serious, but pretending a little bit of worry. “Jango may be good," he agreed, "But so's my _vod_. He might not win, but I'll bet a dessert that Cody puts his opponent on the floor at least once,” he offered.

That got him indulgent smiles from the other two of the table’s occupants -- a pair of female _verd’e_ , one with a long braid of dark hair and a second with short dark curls and a scar on her chin that gave her a dangerous air -- and they both nodded. 

“Alright, _verd’ika_ ,” the one with the scar agreed. “We'll see your dessert, and bet a drink that Fett pins his opponent first.”

“That's a bad wager, _ka’rta_ ,” the _verd_ with the braid spoke up. “ _Buir_ Az’okk will skin us if the _verd'ika_ tries to pay up.”

That made the scarred _verd_ pause. “Yeah, good point. Okay. Not a drink. We'll put in five credits each.”

“Done,” Waxer agreed immediately.

Jango and the Commander finally got the signal to start, then, and Waxer caught Darist’s eyes.

She nodded, and said, “Come on, _verd'ika_ , I want to say hello to that table there.”

“Don't forget to come pay up once the fight is over,” the first _verd_ joked.

"And bring the _verd'ika_ back with you," the _verd_ with the braid chimed in.

“Sure, sure,” Darist agreed with a laugh. “Don't worry.”

Waxer didn't hesitate to pull Darist away from that table so that he could tell her, "We won't have a lot of time to con other tables. The Commander will put on a little bit of a show, just because he can, but he won't draw things out. We'd better split up. You know what to do. Take that table there for everything they've got. They've been betting big on all the fights so far," he used his chin to point to the nearest table of eight, "and I'll try the bar."

Darist gave him a look that said she was _very karking glad_ all she owed him was some _uj'alayi_. "Right."

They parted ways smoothly, as though they'd practiced it before, and Waxer had to hope his _buir_ 's second was as shrewd a gambler as she seemed. He aimed for one of the few open seats at the bar, fairly sure that would get him a good view of the fight and a few easy marks to con.

When he fetched up at the bar, scowling at barely being able to see over the top of it, _Buir_ Az'okk leaned over it to give him a wry look. "What can I do for you, _ad_?" She asked him, her tone implying she suspected he was up to no good.

She'd watched him and Boil scam Darist and Kree, Waxer was almost sure of it. He took advantage of the open barstool he'd picked out, climbing up to sit on it, and leaning on the bar. "Darist said you might be open to making a wager, _Buir_ Az'okk," he answered, making an impulsive decision.

 _Buir_ Az'okk looked at him skeptically. "And just what does your _buir_ think of you making wagers on pit fights?"

The _verd'e_ on either side of him nodded, clearly agreeing with _Buir_ Az'okk. "When the _Mand'alor_ finds out about this, he won't be pleased, _ad'ika_ ," the one on his left said, sounding very amused.

Waxer grinned. "He doesn't mind. I told him what I wanted to do."

 _Buir_ Az'okk snorted. "I'm not sure I believe you, _verd'ika_."

"Alright, I'll prove it to you," Waxer answered, feeling his grin turn a bit predatory. "If Jango wins, my _vod'e_ and I will do the dishes our table produced. If he loses, we get another round of dessert. Will you accept the wager?"

 _Buir_ Az'okk stared him down for another few seconds, her eyes shrewd. "Very well, _ad_. And I will be informing your _buir_ about this, regardless."

"Go ahead," Waxer agreed, offering her his hand.

 _Buir_ Az'okk glanced over at their table once more, then shrugged. "You're the one risking punishment," she said after a beat, and took his hand. "For your sake, I hope you're sure about this."

\--- POV: Jaster Mereel ---

By the time both Cody and Jango were ready, the ring was too. The size difference between them was even more apparent once they were standing next to each other, saluting Jaster. 

Jango still probably had a couple years of growth left in him, and he had the lanky look of a late teen, but Cody was _ten_. He was at least a foot shorter than Jango. Both of them had a couple of scars. Jaster was familiar with the incidents where Jango had gotten his and it pained him to realize that he didn’t know where the _verd’ike_ had gotten theirs. Both _ad’e_ were muscled and wiry, and both looked so damn similar it was crazy.

Kark. Clones. Jaster wanted to shake his head, but knew that too many people were watching him right now. He didn’t want his body language to be interpreted as disappointment with his _ad’e_.

“This is gonna be great,” Crys said. It was muffled from the cold pack he held to his face. 

“Card sharks, all of you,” Ben said.

“After that lesson on gambling you and the masters gave the Cadet, I feel like you have no place to comment on that, General,” Helix said tartly.

Ben gave him a wounded, innocent look, which was completely spoiled by Obi-wan giggling.

Unlike the fight between Crys and Longshot, Jango and Cody started out slow. They circled each other warily, each of them carefully gauging the range between them. 

It was Cody who stepped in first. The two exchanged lightning fast blows and then, in a move that Jaster barely even _saw_ , Jango was flying across the ring.

He didn’t land quite as gracefully as Longshot, though he did end up back on his feet. 

Cody was already there, ducking under swings and making precise jabs at Jango’s ribs. The two went back and forth, both scoring hits. Cody always aimed for the most painful spots. The upper side-ribs, joints, neck, ears, and eyes. Jango went for power, using his superior strength for all it was worth. 

With a quick kick, Jango swept Cody’s feet out from under him. Cody barely even paused. He bounced right back up so quickly that he had to have practiced that response a million times. He didn’t even look surprised. 

He was grinning, though. 

Kark, Jango was in for it now.

More blows were exchanged. Cody managed to get a kick in, on Jango’s hip of all places. It was clearly just designed to push Jango off balance rather than do damage, because Cody stepped right in, slamming the heel of his hand into Jango’s nose. As Jango was stumbling back from that, Cody twisted their arms together and pivoted on the ball of his foot, throwing Jango face first onto the floor. 

A loud _oooooooooooo_ rang across the room as everyone winced in sympathy.

Jango tried to roll out of the landing, but Cody still had a grip on his hand. Every direction Jango tried to go, Cody had him twisted up in a different lock. He pulled at fingers in a way that made Jaster’s hands ache in sympathy.

“Fine, fine, I yield,” Jango groaned eventually. “Give me my hand back, you terror.”

Cody grinned as he let Jango up. His teeth were bloody and there were scrapes all down his back and his arms. Jango looked worse. His face was already purple, and there was a rough floor burn down one of his sides from one -- or possibly more -- of his bad landings. 

The crowd howled, loud enough that it drowned out Helix’s bitching at the both of them, as the victor was declared. Jaster could barely hear what he was saying, but it was something along the lines of “-- told you no broken bones! If I have to --”

When they got back to the table, Jango tried to wave Helix away, and only got his hands slapped for his trouble. Cody looked more smug than repentant. 

The ring needed to be cleaned again. Not that anyone seemed to mind. The restaurant was loud with gossiping _mando’ad’e_. 

Waxer and Boil came bouncing back to the table, both of them with their arms full of various items as well as a fine stack of credit chips, and both of them grinning like hungry nexu beasts. 

When the medic came back over to the table, Jaster was surprised to see _Buir_ Az’okk with him. There was a rueful twist to her lips, though thankfully she didn’t look displeased. 

“ _Buir_ Az’okk,” Jaster said the moment she got into range. “What can I do for you?”

She shook her head at him. “ _Nayc_ , _Mand’alor_. I’m just here to make sure that Jango is alright and to deliver your _ad_ ’s winnings.”

Jaster raised an eyebrow at her and then turned to give Waxer a flat stare.

“What did you bet?” he asked. He tried to sound stern but was fighting not to just laugh instead. 

“Nothing important!” Waxer protested innocently. “I said we’d do dishes if the Commander lost. I figured we’d be here for a while anyways, and it’s not like the Commander was going to lose.”

“Your enterprising _ad’ika_ earned you all a second round of dessert,” _Buir_ Az’okk said with a dry look towards Jaster.

He opened his mouth to speak and then had to stop and shake his head. Finally, he found some words. “Waxer, _ad_ , you know that we could just order more dessert, if you’re still hungry or if you want more.”

“I guess,” Waxer said dubiously.

“But what’s the fun in that?” Boil asked.

Waxer just pointed at Boil, emphasising the point. 

_Buir_ Az’okk laughed, loud and hearty. “Oh my, _Mand’alor_ , good luck with this group,” she said, patting his shoulder in sympathy. “They are going to keep you jumping.”

Jaster rubbed his face with one hand. He had to chuckle.

Obi-wan was bouncing with excitement at the prospect of more sweets. “Ma’am, did you make all the food?” he asked, almost bowling over Ben to get into speaking range with _Buir_ Az’okk. “‘Cause it was really, really good, ‘nd I’ve never had anything like that, not at the Temple ever! Everyone here is so nice, even when they’re punchin’ each other, ‘nd I didn’t know that places like this _ex-is-ted_ , and oh! Oh! Master Sy! Can we do sparring at the Temple at dinner just like this? Do you think Master Drallig would let us?”

“Obi-wan. Obi-wan!” Ben said, holding his younger counterpart down. “Take a breath. Have a seat.”

Obi-wan, who had turned to sit up on his knees in his chair, sank back down and very carefully took large gulps of air.

“It’s generally considered polite to wait for your conversation partner to respond before you ask more questions,” Ben said with a small smile. He had one hand on Obi-wan’s shoulder, holding him steady.

“Yes, Ben,” Obi-wan said, nodding furiously.

 _Buir_ Az’okk just laughed and ruffled the little one’s hair. “I’m glad you’re enjoying your time here, _jet’ika_. Maybe the _Mand’alor_ will invite you and your _buir’e_ back some time.”

That was good. That was very good. If _Buir_ Az’okk was offering that, it meant that she’d liked what she’d seen and was willing to accept them all as allies. That put the rumor mill firmly in Jaster’s favor, at least with regard to the circles that ran through here. 

“You _verd’ike_ are _mandokar’la_ ,” she continued on, approval thick in her voice. “Though I have to say that I’ve never seen _ad’ike_ your age fight in the ring.”

The _vod’e_ preened.

“Not broken!” Helix said, finally drawing his attention away from Jango’s nose. “Shockingly. I appreciate you remembering to pull your punches, Commander.”

Cody went back to being smug. 

Jango rolled his eyes. “I should have known better than to get into the ring with any of you.”

“It’s a learning experience, _ad_ ,” Jaster said, patting Jango on the shoulder.

Jango glared at him. “It was your idea.”

Jaster just grinned. “And?”

“Ughh.” Jango grabbed an ice pack that _Buir_ Az’okk’s medic was offering and put it on his face, effectively covering up his glower. 

The _vod’e_ all cackled. 

“We’ll get some more bacta on that when we get home. For now, the patches we have on hand will do,” Helix said, finally sitting back in his chair.

“I’ll have my _baar’ur’e_ bring by extra,” _Buir_ Az’okk said. “That way you don’t have to ration your own.”

“Thank you, _Buir_ Az’okk.” Helix nodded at her and a little hint of stress melted out of the line of his shoulders.

A server showed up with bowls of flavored frozen cream. A nice touch, considering that four of them would likely greatly appreciate something cold and soft to put in their mouths. As the dishes were being passed around, _Buir_ Az’okk waved at them all and made her way back to the bar. 

Another fight had started up in the time they'd spent talking. Crys and Longshot had long since put their armor back on, and it only took a minute or two for Jango and Cody to follow suit. Jaster thanked the medic before he left, and they all dug into the new dessert with groans of appreciation. 

When the fight ended, this time without drawn blood or the need to clean the ring in between rounds, another _verd_ walked into the center space and looked right at Jaster’s table. 

Rather than salute Jaster, he held up his hands and beckoned towards the ring. “ _Jetiise_! Care for a fight?” 

The man was large and heavyset in the way that implied a whole lot of functional muscle rather than fat. His hair was trimmed close to his scalp and the armor that was on his legs was _beskar_. He wasn’t one of Jaster’s Headhunters, and since he was stripped of his upper armor, Jaster couldn’t tell which clan he hailed from.

Sifo-Dyas and Dooku shared a glance, and then they looked at Jaster.

“ _Mand’alor_?” Dooku asked. “Your opinion?”

Jaster mulled it over for a second or two and then shrugged. “If you want to take up the challenge, feel free. It’s a friendly invite, so you shouldn’t step on any toes.”

“It will be seen more favorably if you agree,” Ben added. “The outcome of the fight won’t be judged too harshly, as long as you’re willing to try.”

Dooku looked at Sifo-Dyas, who just smirked at him.

“Have fun, Master Dooku,” Sifo-Dyas said. There was a twinkle in his eye.

One that Jaster suddenly understood, as Dooku started stripping off his robes. 

A cheer went up around the room once it was clear that one of the _jetiise_ had accepted the challenge.

Jaster didn’t know why he was so surprised that Dooku was in such good shape. No one sparred like that man did without being in top form. Seeing the evidence right in front of him was different than imagining it, though. Under all those layers of robes, Dooku was _fit_. 

And, kark, but that man was not joking when he said he’d been out on fighting missions for decades. He had a lot of scars. All were well healed, showing up as barely-there white lines on his arms and torso. 

Dooku handed his two lightsabres to Sifo-Dyas. 

“If you would mind them for me, Master Sifo-Dyas,” he murmured, just loud enough that Jaster could barely hear the words over the din of chatter and dishware clanking. 

“I would be honored, Master Dooku,” Sifo-Dyas responded in kind. He placed the ‘sabres in front of him on the table, and kept one hand over both hilts.

If Jaster was a bit distracted watching Dooku walk into the ring, he consoled himself with the fact that he wasn’t the only one. He also hadn’t realized that the man’s synthleather boots went up to his knees. Nor had he realized that Dooku’s pants were quite so form fitting. Kriff, but those tunics hid a lot of very attractive acreage. 

“Really, _buir_ ,” Jango mumbled from under the ice pack. 

It was possible that Jango had a point. Jaster should at least attempt to not ogle the visiting _jetiise_. It wouldn’t help the gossip at all. 

When the _verd_ in the ring saluted Jaster, Dooku held his hands together in front of him and bowed towards the table instead. Ben, Sifo-Dyas, and Obi-wan all bowed their heads in return.

The excitement in the room had kicked up a notch. Everyone wanted to see how the _jetii_ would fare. 

Dooku and the _verd_ shook hands, Mandalorian style. Kark, but the _jetii_ was tall. The _verd_ he was fighting was a large man, but he was still a couple inches shy of Dooku’s imperious height. 

The _verd_ grinned viciously as they settled into their starting stances. Dooku looked down his nose at him and there was a wicked glint to his eye. 

While the _verd_ stood in a fighting position that was similar to what everyone else had done so far that night -- hands balled into fists and brought up in front of him to defend his face -- Dooku simply bent his knees a bit and then raised his open hands in a startlingly graceful move. It looked like he was embracing the air in front of him. One arm curled around so his palm was facing his chest while the other was stretched out towards the _verd_. 

When Taan’s hand dropped, the _verd_ launched himself forward, executing a powerful lunging punch. 

Dooku simply shifted a bare _inch_ out of the way. Over and over again, the _verd_ tried to land a hit and each time, he missed by the slimmest of margins. 

Before it could get ridiculous and before the crowd could turn annoyed, instead of dodging away, Dooku stepped forward. He grabbed hold of the arm that the _verd_ was trying to punch him with and pulled, dragging the _verd_ forward and further off balance. At the same time, he drove in towards the _verd_ ’s chest with his open palm. 

The end result was the _verd_ doubling over with a rattling wheeze. Before he had a chance to do more than just stagger in place, Dooku followed up with an elbow to the _verd_ ’s jaw, knocking him right out.

A hushed quiet fell over the room.

In that same breath, Dooku straightened up and grinned at them all. It was sinister as _kriff_.

He waved his hands to the crowd, beckoning in the exact same way that the _verd_ who challenged him had.

“Who’s next?” Dooku asked with dark amusement. 

The crowd burst into cheers and howls of outrage, in equal measure. _Verd’e_ in all parts of the room started taking off their armor, all lining up for a chance to punch the shit out of the smug _jetii_.

“Oh, for kriff’s sake,” Jaster muttered. Even still, he couldn’t help but grin a little. His people loved a challenge. As audacious as Dooku was being, it was exciting, too. 

The _verd_ who’d been knocked out started to stir, and Dooku stooped to help the man up. Two of _Buir_ Az’okk’s _ad’e_ stepped out to carry him off to the waiting medic.

There was a damn line of _verd’e_ waiting for the next attempt. The only one who looked nearly as pleased about that as Dooku was Sifo-Dyas.

“If he wanted to prove he was _mandokar’la_ , he sure found a quick way to do it,” Jaster remarked. He did not add how ridiculously hot that was; he figured that was a given. 

The _vod’e_ and Ben all laughed or huffed in amusement.

“ _Mandokar’la_?” Sifo-Dyas asked, stumbling a bit over the pronunciation. “That means ‘soul’, right?” 

“Sort of. It’s an expression that means he has the right stuff,” Ben supplied. “It’s a mix of bravery and competence and…” He waved his hand nebulously. “Important qualities that verge on insanity.”

“You’d definitely know about that, huh, General?” Cody said dryly.

Ben just gave him a flat look. 

\--- POV: Waxer Mereel ---

It was kind of bizarre to see the way his _buir_ stared when Dooku stripped down to enter the ring. Sure, he knew better than to pretend his _buir_ didn't have sex, but to know that he thought that _jetii_ in particular was attractive? Waxer had to shove his knee-jerk reaction of 'what the kriff even' deep down. He wasn't going to judge.

The fight itself was so short it was almost comical. Once the signal to start was given, the _verd_ \-- clearly a brawler judging by the heavy muscles on his frame -- tried to land the first punch. And failed.

A few more such misses later, Dooku knocked out the _verd_ who'd challenged him with a karking elegant two hit combination, and the whole room went dead silent.

Boil nudged him. "We should go work the tables we didn't get to during Jango's bout with the Commander," he said, making sure his voice didn't carry farther than Waxer's ears.

Waxer nodded. "We should," he agreed. "Get Kree and get to work. I'll grab Darist."

His _riduur_ didn't hesitate, sliding off his chair and taking a sizable fistful of credits with him as he made a beeline for Kree. The _verd_ laughed when Boil approached him, clearly guessing what they wanted to do, and the pair of them started casually making their way through the half circle of tables on their side of the restaurant.

Waxer stopped paying attention to them after that. Following suit, he helped himself to a portion of their winnings that would be enough to wager with effectively and took off, himself. When he reached her side, Darist looked down at him with a bemused smile on her face, but didn't comment. Instead, she simply accepted the credits and raised an eyebrow at him. "Where do you intend to start?"

"The far end of the place. We were near the center before. We need fresh candidates," he told her, and got an amused huff of laughter in return.

"Right. Lead on."

Waxer grinned broadly up at her. "We'll start in the corner."

As they moved along the outermost edges of the room to get to the table of eight that Waxer had named, he overheard little snatches of conversation that made him want to shake his head. Kark, but Dooku had practically the entire establishment either wanting to fight him or kriff him, by the sound of things. Every second comment he caught referred to the way the _jetii_ looked in the warm lighting, shining with the sweat he was working up. Many of the rest had to do with the way his muscles had bulged and flexed when he'd pinned or punched the first _verd_ who'd challenged him to step into the ring.

When he and Darist fetched up against the far wall, he leaned against it for a moment and Darist followed his lead without hesitation, letting their targets gradually become aware of their presence.

When one of the seated _verd'e_ noticed them and beckoned them over, Waxer had to bite down on his smirk. Perfect.

" _Ver'alor_ ," he asked, "what brings you and the _verd'ika_ out to our corner of the restaurant?"

Darist shrugged, managing to keep her face from showing anything but casual interest. "I was wondering whether any of you would be interested in a wager."

Kark, but his _buir_ had the best plans. Waxer was definitely impressed by how good Darist was at this.

"Oh?" The first _verd_ 's nearest companion asked, "What sort of wager?"

That was his cue. He placed a hand on Darist's bracer and looked up at her, putting worry in his voice. " _Ver'alor_ , are you sure about this?"

"Sure, I am, _verd'ika_ ," she replied, a perfect amount of reassurance on her voice.

The _verd_ who'd beckoned them over grinned, hearing what he wanted to hear, and Darist was ready for him.

"You're looking to wager on the _jetii_ , aren't you." He laughed. "Well, why not. What are the terms, _ver'alor_?"

In a move that impressed him with her acting skills, Darist hesitated, making it look real enough that it almost made Waxer think she actually was. "Well, what I was considering was a bit risky for anyone partaking."

The _verd_ 's nearest friend snorted. "Sounds like fun. What is it?"

"Yeah, let us in on it. This could be worth every credit," the third, a woman in green-painted armour urged.

"Alright," Darist nodded, her expression continuing to telegraph uncertainty-that-she-was-trying-to-hide. "I was considering wagering that the _jetii_ wins the next three bouts, starting with this one."

All of the _verd'e_ at the table grinned at each other, sure that they would win that bet. "Those _are_ long odds," the first _verd_ agreed. "Stakes?"

Darist gave in. "If I lose the wager, your drinks are on my tab."

The first _verd_ shook his head, "I didn't take you for one to play things so safe, _ver'alor_."

"What do you propose, then? This bout is already nearly over," Darist returned.

"Put some credits on the match," he shot back, his tone making it clear he thought that was the obvious answer.

Waxer had to admit, it kind of was.

Darist didn't miss a beat. "There are eight of you and one of me," she pointed out. "That would be unfair unless you intend to split what you win from me."

The table's occupants exchanged looks, and then nodded.

"Alright," their spokesman answered. "We'll put up twenty credits each that the _jetii_ loses one of the next three bouts, if you'll agree to get us an appointment with the Clan Armourer."

Pretending to consider that, giving it the weight that such a demand would usually have, Darist nodded, making it look a little reluctant. "Done. But I'm not doing more than getting you that appointment, if you do happen to win the wager."

She turned to him and put a hand on his shoulder, turning him away from the table. "Come on, _verd'ika_ , I need another drink, after that discussion."

The eight _verd'e_ laughed at what sounded to them like imminent defeat.

Waxer and Darist knew better.

They approached the next large table as the ring was getting cleaned between rounds. Darist made as though to walk right past them, and Waxer could tell it would make for the perfect lure.

One of the _verd'e_ seated there had been watching them for several long minutes now, and when they came within reasonably easy conversational range, the _verd_ who'd been staring hailed them almost immediately.

"If it isn't Darist H'yza," he drawled. "It's been a while since I've seen you."

Waxer took a moment to size the _verd_ up. A fit older man in bright blue painted armour with gold accents, he cut a fairly impressive figure. Waxer could tell he was well-trained, and good enough at fighting to feel that he had little to fear in a brawl. The expression on his face, though. That reminded Waxer far too much of their Kaminoan instructors for comfort. There was a subtle hint of avarice and cruelty in the lines around his eyes and mouth.

Darist laughed, sounding like she hadn't a care in the world, but Waxer could tell she was just a little bit uneasy. "Mariik," she responded, "that's because I've been busy, and you seem to do nothing but hang out here at _Buir_ Az'okk's and make losing wagers."

The rest of the table cackled.

Mariik didn't bother to react with more than a grin. "Still as sharp-tongued as ever, I see. You babysitting?"

Waxer fought not to bristle.

Darist's hand landed on his shoulder again. "Spending time with one of the _ad'e be'Mand'alor_ is more of a privilege than a duty, Mariik. I don't mind."

"Sure, sure. If you say so," Mariik replied, sounding like he didn't believe a word she was saying.

Waxer could tell she meant it, though. Maybe she'd felt that way before this, maybe she'd decided so because of his prowess in working this kind of crowd. But either way, that didn't matter.

"Why are they so mean to you, _ver'alor_?" He asked, doing his best to make it sound innocent.

"It's alright, _ad'ika_ ," Darist reassured him. "Mariik just isn't all that good at being social."

The _verd_ seated next to Mariik, a much younger man that might've been his _ad_ , scoffed. "And you are, Darist?"

The question got him a flat glare from his _buir_ 's second, and she shrugged. "Better than he is. And better than you are."

"You're being really rude," Waxer added, because he could get away with it.

"It's alright, _ad'ika_ ," Darist repeated, "we're leaving now. They're clearly not in the mood to wager anything, judging by the way they're addressing us."

"Now, now, wait a moment, _ver'alor_ ," a third _verd_ spoke up, "don't go assuming we're all in a rotten mood tonight. What wager did you want to propose?"

Waxer kind of doubted Mariik or his _ad_ were ever not in a 'rotten mood'.

"No, no, it's alright, H'arlo, I'd rather take my credits elsewhere if Mariik is going to make my charge uncomfortable," Darist waved him off.

"Better that way," Waxer put in, keeping his voice low but making sure they could hear him. "I'm pretty sure you would lose that bet you wanted to make, _ver'alor_. The _jetii_ is really good but he's not _that_ good."

"We'll happily shut Mariik up while you and the _verd'ika_ are around," H'arlo offered. "Were you looking to wager on the _jetii_?"

Darist gave him a long look, weighing him and the sincerity of his offer. "Alright, I'll give this a chance, but if Mariik starts spouting that _osik_ again, I'll consider any wager we make null and void. And make no mistake, I _will_ get _Buir_ Az'okk's men over here to help me enforce the terms, if I have to."

H'arlo nodded, a smirk on his face that said he was fairly sure he could win big off them both.

"But _ver'alor_ \--" Waxer tried to protest again, for appearance's sake.

"Shhh, _ad'ika_ , it's a long shot kind of bet, but I have a good feeling about this one. There's no way the _jetii_ won't win his next bouts. I just know he'll stay undefeated," Darist soothed him. "Besides. The steeper the risks, the more you win."

"Yeah," Waxer agreed, making sure to sound a bit dubious. "Okay, that makes sense."

H'arlo nodded. "It's true," he said sagely as the rest of the table grinned, making his tone as confident and convincing as he could. "It's all about the odds, and that is _definitely_ a bet with long odds."

"What would that kind of bet even be like?" Waxer asked him. "How does it work?"

The table chuckled, the sound bordering on gleeful. H'arlo grinned broadly, "Well, _ad_ , the way it works is that you offer something that you'll give us if we're right, and we do the same. If, let's say, Darist were to put a few credits on the _jetii_ landing two punches, for example, and we put ours on him landing none, then Darist would get to keep all of the credits if he actually did."

Waxer pretended to consider that. "So what happens if it's a much harder bet to win? The _jetii_ can land two punches, easy."

Darist put in, "Well, _ad'ika_ , for long shot bets, it tends to pay off best if you put in something that's valuable but you can still afford to lose."

"Exactly right," H'arlo said sagely. "Then everyone else betting does the same."

Waxer turned to his wingmate. "So you could bet one of your knives, Darist?"

She shrugged. "I could, but I doubt they'd be able to match its value. It's an heirloom that's been in my family for generations."

Waxer could tell she was making that up on the spot, but apparently the table's occupants couldn't, because they grinned broadly.

"What do you think, _burc'ya'se_?" H'arlo asked the other _verd'e_ around him. "Think we can match that kind of value?"

"You could wager that rifle," Waxer suggested. "That looks like a very nice piece of kit and I wish I had one like it."

The comment got him a surprised glance. "You know your weapons, _verd'ika_ ," H'arlo said. "Yeah, it's still practically new, and definitely worth a bundle of credits."

The others around the table considered the stakes. Waxer could tell that they were karking tempted by the prospect of taking Darist's 'heirloom' knife from her in a wager they thought would be an easy win for them.

Mariik looked especially interested. "Alright, I'm in," the _besom_ agreed. "I can't match the value with a single piece, so I'll put in two of my vibroknives."

His _ad_ nodded. "Same stakes."

The rest of the table followed suit, after that, adding various weapons to the list. The next two _verd'e_ put in an expensive westar blaster each -- the kind, Waxer recalled, that the Jango in their timeline had never been seen without and were well known for their accuracy and reliability -- another added a _beskad_ that Waxer was pretty sure was an _actual_ heirloom.

The remaining two _verd'e_ exchanged a look, then turned to Darist. One of them asked, eyeing Waxer, "I don't mind joining in but before I do... is the _verd'ika_ taking part in the wager?"

That presented them with a bit of quandary. He could take part, and would happily take these _besom'e_ for the very armour off their backs after the near-insults that had been flung around earlier. But what could he offer...?

"I can't," he said. "I don't own anything that valuable."

The _verd_ smirked. "What about that _beskar'gam_ you're wearing?"

Waxer didn't have to fake how horrified he was, on hearing _that_ suggestion. "I can't bet my _armour_ ," he replied. "My _buir_ would skin me."

"It's okay, _ad'ika_ ," Darist said, "you don't have to join in. In fact, it might be better if you don't."

"Aw, come on, Darist," H'arlo put in, "let him wager if he wants to. He could bet a favour, or something like that."

"Maybe," Waxer hesitated; he couldn't match the value of the items on the table, even if he put up all the IOUs in his metaphorical pocket. Deciding to take a risk, he offered, "Maybe I could put up a conversation with my _vod_? He's apprenticed to the clan armourer, and could probably make something that would be acceptable." 

H'arlo raised an eyebrow at him. "Apprentice work, but from a student of the clan armourer's. Hm. What do you think, Gonal? That sounds fine to me."

Gonal, the one who'd wanted to know if Waxer would be taking part, nodded. "Alright, why not. I'll put in my electrostaff, then."

The last _verd_ shrugged. "I'll add another pair of vibroknives."

A round of handshakes sealed the deal, and then Darist was moving them on with a nod, steering them towards a nearby table of _verd'e_ whose armour schemes Waxer recognised from the palace training yard. The majority of them were part of Jango's company, his Grunts, though there was one member of Darist's Headhunters with them, whose name Waxer didn't know. The Grunts weren't quite as well known to Waxer as the Headhunters, but they'd always treated him and his _vod'e_ well.

Darist didn't hesitate. She simply walked up to the table, snagged one of the two free seats, and signaled one of the passing servers for a drink. "Kark, but that group always makes me want to scream," she muttered as Waxer claimed the seat next to her, making the _verd_ on her other side -- one of the Grunts -- laugh.

The Headhunter offered Darist a grin and half-serious salute. "Enjoying yourself, _ver'alor_?"

Darist just made a face at her _verd_.

"Mariik and his lot are just impossible to correct gently, Darist," the Grunt who'd laughed said, "they're more set in their ways than anyone else in the city, I think."

"Maybe so, Kar'layi," Darist grumbled, "but they might learn something from tonight's lesson. Kark, but I needed to talk to someone civilised after that."

The rest of the table laughed.

"Oh, do tell!" Kar'layi prompted her. "What snare did you lay for those troublemakers?"

"Waxer and I bet them that the _jetii_ won't lose any of his fights," she replied, with a smirk, and got a series of shocked exclamations that made Waxer smirk, himself.

"He won't lose," he put in quietly. "I've seen how _jetiise_ fight. That's not even nearly all he can do."

Kar'layi raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah?"

"Want to wager on it?" Waxer grinned back.

"Not if we have to come up with the kinds of collateral that Mariik was agreeing to. That's hyperlane robbery," she shot back with a grin of her own.

Darist snickered. "Worth it for the looks on their faces later, when they have to hand over their favourite toys," she said simply, getting another round of chuckles out of the other _verd'e_.

"What are we betting, then?" one of the other Grunts asked. "I'd offer credits, but I'm a bit broke at the moment."

"Lost big betting on Jango, did you, Par'yc?" Darist teased him.

"Not all that badly," Par'yc grumbled in answer, "but I had to replace some kit after we went to Concordia to kick those Death Watch _shabuir'e_ out of our sector."

"Why not bet favours, then?" Waxer suggested.

"We could," Darist agreed. "Maybe we should bet a guard shift each, along Company lines. Headhunters versus Grunts."

Kar'layi snorted. "That's a pretty valuable piece of collateral," she pointed out and the other lone Headhunter at the table tried to convey something urgent to Darist with her eyebrows. "What's the wager?"

"Well, not the same one I offered Mariik," Darist joked, getting amused snorts from all of the Grunts, and subtly replied to her _verd_ with some hand signals that calmed her down. "I'll wager a guard shift that Dooku wins the next bout in under five minutes. You in, Zeiirk?"

The other Headhunter -- Zeiirk, apparently -- gave Darist a long look that clearly said, _you'd better be karking right about this,_ but nodded. "Alright."

The Grunts all grinned. "Done," Kar'layi said, speaking for all of the Grunts, and they each offered Darist and Zeiirk a hand to shake.

Tellingly, not one of the _verd'e_ at the table so much as hinted that Waxer should join in the wager. Clearly, Darist and his _buir_ were selective about who they allowed into their companies of _ori'ramikad'e_.

A burst of loud slightly tipsy-sounding giggles from the table behind him got Waxer's attention, and he turned to glance over his shoulder at them before settling in to eavesdrop. Anything that could make a whole table of _verd'e_ laugh like that had to be good.

"-- win or lose," one of them was saying, "I wan'ta see if he'll lose his pants."

Waxer had to bite down hard on a disbelieving snort as the rest of the table cackled gleefully. _Karking sith-hells._

"Long odds on that, _vod_ ," another of the table's occupants replied. "He's barely been touched in any of the bouts so far."

"Right? It's karking unfair," a third _verd_ lamented.

The first _verd_ scoffed. "Hardly. My _vod_ is waiting to fight. She said she was going t'go for his belt."

A fourth _verd_ made a choking sound, like they'd just swallowed wrong, and coughed violently. "Kriff, Niiya," he said once he'd recovered and his friends had stopped pounding on his back in an attempt to 'help'. "That's a _jetii_. Do you really think they give a kriff about clothes? I heard they're some kind'a warrior monks who take an oath to own nothing."

"Then I guess we'll find out if he actually does wear anything under those tight pants of his, and maybe get to see him fight in the nude," Niiya replied with an audible grin and glee in her voice. "Can't say I'd mind that view."

Waxer fought the urge to shake his head or bury his face in his gloved hands. It was like listening to a bunch of starry eyed cadets lusting over their as yet unassigned _jetii_ Generals.

"That's going t'get your _vod_ arrested," the second _verd_ pointed out.

"Pretty sure Jal'nyc would think that was worth spending a few hours in Captain Sina's gaol until we can bail her out. Her crush on the City Guard Captain is getting kind of sad," Niiya replied.

"I still say he's not wearing any undergarments. They'd show, with how karking tight those pants are," the male _verd_ put in.

"Want to wager on it?" Niiya asked him.

He'd heard enough. That sounded like another table that was ripe for the plucking. He nudged Darist's elbow, getting her to look down at him.

"What is it, _verd'ika_?" She asked him.

"If you want to make another wager, _ver'alor_ , the table behind us would probably be a good place to try," he suggested.

Zeiirk grinned broadly. "Them? They're my kind of _verd'e_. They've been debating whether the _jetii_ wears anything under those tight pants of his for about the last three bouts."

Surprised, Waxer cackled. "Oh, Force. You know, I have no idea if he does or not."

"I'd pay good credits to see his face when they ask him," Zeiirk said, staring off into the middle distance as she imagined the scene.

If that went anything like the conversation where Crys had asked Dooku and Sifo-Dyas whether Master Fisto had a pouch to tuck his deece into, like a fish, it would be the best kind of deadpan delivery, no matter the answer. Waxer was sure of it.

Before he could get any farther in planning his approach to the next wager, the network went tense in a way Waxer had only ever felt once before, on Concordia. During their assault on the mine. When the General'd had one of his Bad Feelings right before several Death Watch _verd'e_ had turned up.

Reaching out over the network, Waxer tried to find out what was kriffing happening. _General?_

Helix reached back to him, sending a wordless but urgent _return to base_ request.

"I'm going to go back to our table, _ver'alor_ ," he told Darist. "My _vod'e_ are signaling me. Go ahead and make your last few wagers before you join us."

No need to alarm anyone.

If the General'd just had one of his Bad Feelings, then things would go karking sideways soon enough. Better not to act precipitously.

Standing, he wove his way back between the tables, spotting his _riduur_ doing the same.


	3. Chapter 3

\--- POV: Jaster Mereel ---

The second _verd_ to step into the ring with the _jetii_ was a tall, wiry Pantoran. He cracked his knuckles and swung his arms around, flexing up his joints as he stepped up to Dooku. 

Jaster was willing to bet good credits that the waiting _verd’e_ had all done a quick evaluation amongst themselves before deciding who went next. The _verd_ who'd first challenged the _jetiise_ was a muscly brute of a man. Maybe they were hoping that a more dexterous fighter would have better luck.

If that was the collective thought process, they were right. Marginally. The wiry _verd_ did manage to get two solid hits on Dooku, both of which the _jetii_ shrugged off as if they’d barely touched him. Then that _verd_ was face down on the floor, tapping out frantically before Dooku snapped his ankle.

The fight with the third _verd_ went much the same. 

Dooku looked like he was having a ball. 

The crowd was roaring with approval. People towards the back of the room were standing at their seats to get a better look at what was going on. Credits were being shuffled around as bets were cashed in after each round. 

Jaster could just barely make out the armored forms of Waxer and Boil wandering around the room, likely hustling the spectating _verd’e_ and their dinner companions for all they were worth. Darist and Kree were close enough to them that Jaster wasn’t worried. Not that he thought anything bad would happen to his _ad’ike_. No _mando’ad_ worth the name would harm an _ad’ika_. Despite that, it was still good to see that they were being guarded.

“I’m kind of worried about what you all are gonna buy with all those credits your _vod’e_ are fleecing for you,” Jaster remarked after the fourth round.

“Donno. Maybe a spaceship?” Crys said speculatively.

“There’s really not enough there for a starship,” Ben said, eyeing the pile that Waxer and Boil had left on the table after Cody and Jango’s bout.

“Not yet.” Longshot grinned. "We'd have to come back here a few more times for that, but Waxer and Boil are making an absolute killing. Did you see Waxer and Darist scam that one table into wagering their _weapons_?"

Jango shook his head and looked up at the ceiling, though there was a smile on his face. 

Jaster was deeply concerned about what might happen when all of his _ad’e_ gained unfettered access to a ship with a hyperdrive. He might need to recruit Jango to ride herd on them. Knowing his oldest _ad_ , that likely wouldn’t decrease the chances of the whole group getting into trouble, but it would at least make Jaster worry a bit less.

By the fifth round, Dooku had a slightly bloody lip. His short hair was mussed up in a ridiculously attractive way, and his body gleamed with sweat. 

Jaster was seriously rethinking his resolution to not jump into the ring. Dooku and Sifo-Dyas might be _riduur’e_. They might even be exclusive. Wrestling around with the _jetii_ would be an opportunity to lose some of the tension in a totally acceptable way. 

Judging by the openly interested looks from half the _verd’e_ in the wait line, he was not the only one to consider that. 

The fights felt like they went by quickly. Jaster was enjoying the hell out of himself, and from the cheering and roars of delight and anguish from the rest of the restaurant, everyone else was too. _Buir_ Az’okk had to be making a killing on drinks right now. 

When the sixth _verd_ stepped into the ring with Dooku, Ben and Obi-Wan both stiffened in their seats. 

“Master Sy…” Obi-Wan grabbed Sifo-Dyas’ sleeve and tugged on it, never once taking his eyes off of the new _verd_ contender.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Ben finished Obi-Wan’s sentence. Obi-Wan nodded.

The _vod’e_ acted like they’d been zapped with a shockstick. They all snapped to attention and discreetly put hands on or near weapons.

“Crys, Longshot, Wooley, take _buir_ and _ori’vod_ ’s six,” Cody ordered. “Helix, you and I are on the other flank. I want eyes on hotspots.”

Before he could say another word, Waxer and Boil both popped up from who knew where. They were grim faced and had their hands were perched discreetly near their blaster hilts.

“Just in time,” Cody said. “Waxer, Boil, cover the Cadet and the General’s back. General --”

“I’ll watch the ring,” Ben said.

Before Jaster could even blink, the _vod’e_ were up and moving, not quite casually, but close enough to pass for it in this kind of a crowd. Crys, Longshot, and Wooley ended up standing behind Jaster and Jango, looking out towards the back of the room. The others bracketed the center group in on either side, with Sifo-Dyas’ seat as part of the outer perimeter.

“ _Ad’e_?” Jaster asked evenly. He kept his posture relaxed, knowing that how he reacted could very well start something that couldn’t be taken back.

“General’s bad feelings are _never_ wrong,” Cody explained. “And they always mean that things are about to go straight to sith-hells.”

Jaster cast a quick glance at Sifo-Dyas; the _jetii_ was staring at the ring in front of them like he wasn’t really seeing it. His brow was furrowed and there was a tiny frown on his face.

“I can’t see it,” Sifo-Dyas said. “Obi-Wan, please keep your eyes peeled.”

“Yes, Master Sy,” Obi-Wan said, leaning forward like a _striil_ on the hunt.

The _verd_ saluted Jaster, and Dooku bowed, in the same way all the other fights had started. Dooku’s eyes darkened with concern, and they lingered on Sifo-Dyas for a moment. Everything seemed normal. Jaster couldn’t find a reason to call off the fight. Nor would Dooku be able to leave; he was bound by expectation.

His opponent wasn’t anyone that Jaster recognized. Another _verd_. In good shape, a bit on the young side, perhaps. The armor on his leggings wasn’t _beskar_ , but it was in good repair. None of it was painted gold, so no outward sign that he was seeking vengeance for something. 

Darist slipped up to stand next to Crys, Longshot, and Wooley. She chatted quietly with them, probably to give them all an excuse to be standing there without alarming people while also joining in the effort to watch Jaster’s back. He very much appreciated that. A quick glance around the room showed him that the rest of his Headhunters, the ones that he could see anyways, were slowly starting to come to attention, too. Either they'd caught on that something was up, or Darist had spread the word to pay attention and prepare for trouble. 

A minute later, _Buir_ Az’okk’s bouncers had caught on, too. They started moving farther into the crowd, very casually.

If a fight broke out here, it would be a damn nightmare. Most of the room was armed and armored. A firefight here would be a bloodbath, especially with that line of _verd'e_ who’d taken their chest armor off to wait for their turn to try and punch the _jetii_. Jaster was almost hoping for an outside attack. At least then he’d automatically be able to tell that everyone in the restaurant was a friendly and that they all should be firing at an external force. Kark it all, but chances were good that he wasn’t that lucky. 

Jaster was so busy watching the damn crowd that when a scream came from the fighting ring, he wasn’t expecting it at all. He and the _vod’e_ were moving into defensive stances before Jaster’s brain even had a chance to catch up to what he was seeing.

Obi-Wan was in the ring. _Obi-Wan_. 

The scream had been from Dooku’s opponent. Obi-Wan was perched on the attacking _verd_ ’s back, arms around the man’s neck, with his teeth sunk solidly right into the man’s ear.

Before the man could even try to grab the little one and free himself, Obi-Wan was plucked right off the _verd_ ’s back by an invisible hand and pulled towards the table. In the same instant, Dooku held up his hand towards the _verd_ , and the man was Force slammed down into the floor. 

The entire crowd was up in arms, yelling and unholstering weapons. No one had fired yet, thank _Manda_.

“What the kriff, Cadet?” Helix snarled. The _vod’e_ had pulled the little one right into the middle of their group as soon as he was in range. Jango and Darist lined up with the _vod’e_ , making a solid ring around Ben and Obi-Wan, while Sifo-Dyas stepped a little ways away. He had his ‘sabre out, but it wasn’t lit. Yet. He just stood in front of them, a physical roadblock between them and the rest of the room.

Jaster glanced around for Dooku’s ‘sabres, finally spying them at Dooku’s waist. The _jetii_ still held his opponent on the ground with the power of his mind alone.

This shit had to get under control, and quickly. 

Jaster jumped up onto their table and let out an ear piercing whistle. He knew from experience that the sound was loud as kriff and could be heard a mile off on a good day. So he was reasonably sure that he’d get everyone’s attention. He had to rip down some windchimes to make room for himself, but that only took a second or two.

When the angry shouts quieted enough for him to be heard, he shouted, “ **ENOUGH**. Everyone sit your _shebs_ down!”

He prayed that his influence as _Mand’alor_ would be enough to stem the tide of this clusterkriff. 

To his eternal relief, it seemed to work.

Some people sat down, many didn’t. Weapons were holstered, or at least lowered. The Headhunters made their way towards Jaster’s table, and _Buir_ Az’okk’s bouncers started moving towards people who looked the most upset.

“That shit-eating little _jetii_ monster kriffing bit my ear off!” The man pinned to the floor howled.

Dooku snarled at him and flexed his fingers, forcing a little _errk!_ out of the pinned _verd_.

“I said enough,” Jaster said sharply to Dooku.

Dooku didn’t look at him, but he did open his fingers a bit. The _verd_ on the floor gasped gratefully.

“ _Ad_?” Jaster said, turning to look at Obi-Wan.

“He was gonna poison my _buir_!” Obi-Wan screamed. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and he struggled in Helix’s hold. “He had a little knife! I saw it!”

Jaster, and everyone else in the room, looked down to the fighting ring floor. 

Sure enough. There was a tiny blade lying there a few feet away from the combatants. The sharp edge couldn’t have been longer than Jaster’s thumb. Something just big enough to make a superficial cut, but small enough to hide in a closed fist.

Jaster jumped down from the table and stepped over to take a look at the offending knife. 

“Don’t touch it!” Obi-Wan ordered. “It’s messy! There’s-- There’s _stuff_ on it!”

“I won’t, _ad'ika_ , I won’t,” Jaster reassured him.

He leaned down to take a closer look. There did seem to be some kind of residue on the surface of the knife. How Obi-Wan had seen it from where he was sitting, Jaster had no damn idea. Probably something to do with the Force. 

_Buir_ Az’okk joined Jaster in the ring, crouching next to him to look at the knife.

“Kriff,” she muttered. “Ver’ya! Get some tongs and come pick this up,” she ordered one of her _ad’e_.

The room rumbled around them as people started muttering. Despite that, the tension in the room dropped another degree. 

Once Ver’ya had come back with the requested tongs and deposited the knife in a metal bowl, Jaster stepped over to Dooku.

“Let him up,” Jaster ordered.

Despite the heat of the room and the crowds, the air was definitely colder around the _jetii_. Chilly enough that Jaster was glad for his armorweave bodysuit under his _beskar’gam_. 

The sneer hadn’t fallen off of Dooku’s face, though he did grace Jaster with a look. He lifted his hand, and with it, the _verd_ floated up off the ground until it almost looked like he could have been hovering upright in place with a jetpack. His boots hovered a bare inch off of the floor and his stiff posture implied his limbs were still pinned. 

“Close enough,” Jaster said with a half shrug. “You. What the kriff? Did you bring poison to the ring here at _Buir_ Az’okk’s place?”

The reminder of the poison and the mention of _Buir_ Az’okk were calculated statements. Jaster wanted to remind the crowd that real _mando’ad’e_ shot their enemies in the face, rather than trying to stab them in the back. Using such an underhanded tactic at a place of open hospitality was a double offense. 

“That is a piece of _osik jetii_ that you’re letting into our sector, _Mand’alor_.” The _verd_ said the title like it was a curse. “Filthy, _ad_ -snatching, space wizards, so full of their own _ori’copaad_ over banthashit that doesn’t kriffing exist that they let themselves be leashed to the _Republic Senate_. They’re here to corrupt us. We need to get rid of them before they can karking _infest_.”

The cold radiating from Dooku redoubled, but the _jetii_ didn’t move even a hairsbreadth.

“They helped us stop Death Watch, you know,” Jaster said coolly. 

“As _narudar_ ,” the _verd_ spat back. “Now that the _hut’uun'la dar’manda shabuir'e_ are wiped out, they’re back to being our enemies.”

Jaster wanted to grind his teeth at the irony of this _di’kut_ calling anyone else a coward. 

“You are a kriffing moron,” Jaster growled out. “What did you think was going to happen if you’d succeeded? Did you _want_ to start another Jedi-Mandalorian War?”

He didn’t need to add a comment about how well the last one worked out for them all.

“If they want a fight, they can bring it,” the _verd_ snarled. Or tried to. It didn’t come off as terribly menacing given how he was suspended in midair. 

Kriff. Kriffing kriff kriff kriff on a kriffing kriff stick. 

“ _Copaani mirshmure'cye, di’kut_?” Jaster muttered. If the situation wasn’t so serious, it would be comical. Kriffing hotheaded _verd_ , with more blaster than brains.

Jaster turned to Master Dooku and gave him a nod. He added in a fist tapped to his heart in salute, too. “You have my deepest apologies for the assassination attempt, Master Dooku.” He turned and did the same towards where Sifo-Dyas was standing back at the table. “And to you, High Councilor Sifo-Dyas. I had intended only to share with you some of our more engaging traditions.”

 _Not leave you open to attack_ , went unsaid.

It was a calculated gesture, respectful without showing more deference than a head of state should. The salute told the rest of the gathered _mando’ad’e_ that he was treating the _jetiise_ as he would another _mando’ad_. 

A little bit of Dooku’s icy demeanor thawed, though it was Sifo-Dyas who answered.

“There was no harm done, _Mand’alor_ ,” the _jetii_ said evenly. “Thanks to Initiate Obi-Wan’s quick eye and your decisive action.” He cast a slightly chiding glance towards the little one. “While I am incredibly grateful at your timely intervention, Obi-Wan, next time someone tries to kill one of us with a poisoned knife, just use the Force to hold the blade back. Or tell one of us and we will do it. I can’t imagine that you have a particularly good taste in your mouth.”

Jaster couldn’t quite see Obi-Wan, who was hidden behind the _vod’e_ , but he did hear a quiet, “ _Yuck, it’s so gross_.”

There were one or two quiet snickers and snorts from across the room.

Obi-Wan’s commentary also broke through Dooku’s mask of disdain. His mouth twitched with amusement, and the air grew warmer around them, close to something normal again. 

The _mando’ad’e_ were looking at Sifo-Dyas with an expression that Jaster was intimately familiar with, having worn it himself for the past several weeks. It was a mix of being appalled and being impressed. 

What the _kark_ did _jetiise_ get up to that getting knifed with a poisoned blade was an eventuality that they simply took for granted and planned for?

“And this one, _Mand’alor_?” Dooku asked, glancing towards the _verd_ that was still suspended by the Force.

“Darist,” Jaster said.

“Here, _Mand’alor_.” She stepped out from where she’d been guarding the _vod’e_.

“Call the City Guard. Have them pick up this _di’kut_.”

She saluted him and waved a couple of the Headhunters over to help her out.

“You,” Jaster turned his attention to the _verd_ , “what’s your clan?”

“Clan Rook.”

“Fantastic,” Jaster said sarcastically. “I can’t wait to tell Chieftain Gratus Razi what his _aliit_ has been up to.”

It was that threat that finally made a dent. The _verd_ went pale. For good reason, too. Gratus was a friend of Jaster’s, and the old warrior wasn’t known for his forgiving attitude. The _verd_ would be brought up on charges. What, exactly, those charges were would be decided after interrogation. It was a neat little excuse that he had for the attempted killing of a visiting ambassador, but Jaster didn’t trust it. _Osik_ , Jaster was almost grateful that the _di’kut_ had admitted his plan in front of everyone. This could have turned much uglier if the _verd_ had lied and tried to claim that the poisoned knife was Dooku’s. Thankfully, most _mando’ad’e_ were very straightforward. 

Maybe the _vod’e_ and their hypervigilance was wearing off on him.

It was a courtesy to inform Gratus. The old Chieftain could try and interfere if he wanted to, but Jaster didn’t think he would. 

With the Headhunters already restraining the _verd_ , Dooku dropped his hand and released him to their care. 

Thank _Manda_. For a minute there, Jaster had been worried that the _jetii_ might just decide to take matters into his own hands and snap the idiot’s neck. Not that it would be undeserved, but it certainly would have been more of a pain in the ass for Jaster to deal with.

Jaster turned to _Buir_ Az’okk. 

Before he could apologize, she shook her head at him. 

“ _Nyac_ , _Mand’alor_. You have nothing to apologize for. No one can stop a fool from doing what they do best.” She crossed her arms, and scowled. “I’ll have my _ad’e_ talk with that one’s friends. Ban them all. That sort of _osik_ shouldn’t happen here.”

 _Buir_ Az’okk said that last bit to Dooku, and her tone was regretful. It was the most her pride would allow.

Dooku stepped forward towards her and bowed gracefully. “My dear lady, this is hardly the first time someone has made an attempt on my life, and I am completely certain it won’t be the last. Your establishment has been an utter delight, and I am charmed to have been able to experience it.”

“Got a clever tongue to go with those muscles, huh, _jetii_?” she replied with a grin and a raised eyebrow. 

Jaster held back a bark of laughter. Of course _Buir_ Az’okk would flirt shamelessly. She was as forthright as they came. With people she _liked_. Her commentary meant that Dooku had firmly lodged himself in that category. 

Dooku, the slick bastard, smirked and said, “A Jedi Master strives for excellence in all fields of study.” There was a distinct note of smugness in his voice.

Karking hells, was this where Ben got his crazy flirting? He and Dooku had some sort of lineage tie, both being connected to Yoda. Jaster had never seen Dooku lay on the charm like this before. It was a little surprising, and somehow still completely in line with what he knew of the man.

 _Buir_ Az’okk laughed. “Kriff,” she said as she shook her head. Then she turned to face out towards the room. Most of the people watching had calmed down. Many were still standing, and everyone was watching the center of the room with interest. The quiet murmur of people gossiping was present as a low drone.

“ _Burc'ya'se_ , _aliit_ ,” she called out, “please take your seats while we clean the ring. Once it’s declared safe, the space will be reopened for those who still wish to test their skill.”

A few of _Buir_ Az’okk’s people were already scrubbing the area where the knife had fallen. The crowd grew louder as the gossip began in earnest and as people headed back to their seats and to their friends. Most of the _verd’e_ who’d been lined up to fight Dooku were already back with their friends.

Jaster locked eyes with Dooku and then nodded towards their table, raising his eyebrow in question. Dooku nodded, and the two walked out of the ring. 

The moment they got within striking distance, Obi-Wan slithered out of Helix’s grasp and was hugging Dooku’s waist like the man was going to disappear.

“Master Doo!” the little one cried.

Dooku looked startled, which made Sifo-Dyas snort in amusement.

“Everything’s alright, youngling,” Dooku said, patting the child’s head. When that obviously wasn’t helping, he urged Obi-Wan over to a chair. “Here, let’s sit.”

Obi-Wan didn’t budge. He just clung to Dooku’s waist.

Dooku’s expression of mild panic increased. He cast a glance at Sifo-Dyas, who’d covered his mouth with a hand and was clearly trying not to cackle. 

The two of them shared a whole conversation without ever speaking a word. Jaster could almost hear it. Dooku glanced down at Obi-Wan and then back up to Sifo-Dyas. Sifo-Dyas raised an eyebrow, with a touch of wry amusement. Then Dooku dropped his shoulders and looked more imploringly at him.

Jaster couldn’t hold back the quiet chuckle, despite the circumstances. The _vod’e_ still looked worked up, but several of them were sporting smiles at the intimidating _jetii_ ’s floundering.

The wordless conversation must have done the trick, because Sifo-Dyas picked up Obi-Wan and settled him on his hip.

“Let’s let Master Dooku take a seat, and then you can give him a hug, alright Obi-Wan?” Sifo-Dyas asked. 

Obi-Wan nodded and rubbed his tear-filled eyes.

The look of pure gratitude that Dooku cast Sifo-Dyas made Jaster laugh all over again. 

_Note to self: Dooku has at least one weakness. Children._

Dooku took his seat, at which point Sifo-Dyas deposited Obi-Wan on his lap, where he promptly curled up and wrapped his arms around Dooku’s neck. Jaster, Ben, and Sifo-Dyas returned to their seats as well. 

The _vod’e_ were less easily placated. 

Cody took the seat in between Ben and Sifo-Dyas, while Helix stepped over to give Dooku a once-over. The rest of the _vod’e_ stood around them in a loose perimeter, with Jango standing with them.

“Helix, I’m perfectly fine,” Dooku said.

“Yup, and I’m just making sure,” Helix said. His check was fairly quick. Dooku didn’t seem to have taken much damage from the several fights prior to his almost-knifing.

Dooku awkwardly patted Obi-Wan’s back. “Everything’s alright, youngling. We’re all alright.”

“It was poison,” Obi-Wan said into Dooku’s shoulder. “I saw it, it was gonna be _bad_.”

“And you stopped it from touching me, and everyone else. Well done, young one.” Dooku looked fondly down at the child in his lap. “Next time, take your fork and stab him. Biting leaves you open to any number of diseases.”

“You’ll be getting a full round of booster shots when we get home,” Helix warned, having now switched his attention to Obi-Wan.

“Awww.” Obi-Wan pouted, though the expression was more petulant than actually distressed. 

“‘Take your fork and stab him’?” Jaster asked.

“He’s too young to be given a blade,” Dooku said primly.

That earned him another grumble from Obi-Wan. 

“Crèche Master Tinna would return the blade to us. With extreme prejudice,” Sifo-Dyas said dryly. 

Ben snorted, and nodded in agreement. 

“There now,” Dooku said to Obi-Wan. “Take a deep breath. Release your upset into the Force. It does not serve you. Breathe in serenity.”

Obi-Wan did as he was commanded and started taking slow, measured breaths. 

“Listen to the Force. Ground yourself in this moment. Try to determine if what you are feeling is your body’s reaction to the fight, your emotional reaction to the whole situation, or if there is an external force influencing you,” Dooku advised. “It’s alright if you don’t know, just note how you feel so that you can meditate on it later.”

Obi-Wan nodded. Already he was miles calmer than he’d been when Dooku walked over. 

Ben watched the whole interaction with an expression that Jaster couldn’t place. It was some mix of emotions that flickered into life and were banished the moment they appeared. 

“Better now?” Dooku asked.

Obi-Wan nodded, but didn’t seem interested in getting off of Dooku’s lap.

“You called me your _buir_.” Dooku raised an eyebrow at the child.

“It was the right thing to say,” Obi-Wan replied with grave sincerity. 

A curious turn of phrase. Jaster had to wonder if it was because Obi-Wan looked at Dooku as his parent, or if he was trying to make a point with the _Mando’ad’e_. The kid was five, but he was a devious five, and he was too clever by half. Jaster wouldn’t put it past him. 

Dooku hummed skeptically, but didn’t dispute it.

“Pity that the fun was cut short so quickly,” Sifo-Dyas said, possibly in an attempt to strike up normal conversation again.

Jaster nodded. It was a pity. He’d been enjoying watching Dooku fight. 

He mulled over the situation as servers came by to clean up the table. There were dishes and glasses everywhere from where he’d jumped on the table, and the torn down windchimes, too. He held back a wince about those. He’d have to make it up to _Buir_ Az’okk somehow, though she’d likely just wave off the debt. Jaster had been acting as _Mand’alor_ and keeping everyone calm.

It would still be polite to attempt to fix the damage. 

A _verd_ in full, blue- and red-painted _beskar’gam_ stepped up to the table. Her helmet was off, and her hair was tied back into tight braids. Clan Rook’s signet was on one of her pauldrons, and the _Haat Mando’ad_ mythosaur skull on the other.

The _vod’e_ tensed, but didn’t pull their blasters. 

The _verd_ stopped a respectful distance from the table, and tapped her chest in salute.

“ _Mand’alor_ ,” she said. “On behalf of Clan Rook, I’d like to tender our _aliit_ ’s apologies. Chieftain Razi is my cousin, and I know that he would never have condoned this shameful act.”

Cousin. Now that she mentioned it, Jaster was sure that they’d met before. He racked his brain for a name. 

Al’ay. That was it.

Jaster returned the salute. “Thank you, _verd_. I appreciate your sense of loyalty and responsibility.”

She nodded, and then saluted the _jetiise_. “Our apologies to you as well, _jetiise_. Me and my _vod’e_ were enjoying your bouts. We are all sorry that they came to an end so quickly.”

Dooku bowed his head to her. “It is a shame to cut the fun short. As much as I enjoyed the sparring, I’m not sure if it would be wise for me to participate any further. What would your recommendation be, _Mand’alor_?”

That was an interesting move. Dooku was showing willingness to continue, but had left the choice to do so up to Jaster. It showed deference, and thus boosted Jaster’s reputation and authority in front of his own people. Very clever.

And much appreciated. 

The truth was, Jaster could see pros and cons either way. If Dooku chose to sit out, it would likely give Obi-Wan some peace of mind and would firmly put an end to the assassination attempts for the night. At least the overt ones. But it would smack of cowardice. 

If Dooku chose to fight again, Obi-Wan and the _vod’e_ would be walking on eggshells from nerves alone, and there was a chance that another pissed off _verd_ would try to take a shot. The Clan Rook _di’kut_ had been put down so quickly, and by an _adiik_ no less. It was insulting, not just that the _verd_ tried to kill a visiting ambassador, but that he failed so pitifully. Some might take it as a challenge, and the _jetiise_ were still not well liked despite the general atmosphere of _admiration_ in the restaurant. 

An idea occurred to him. It was risky. Jaster would have to trust that Dooku would continue to act in a way that would support Jaster’s position.

“One more round wouldn’t go amiss,” Jaster said finally. “And you’ll be fighting me,” he added with a grin.

Whatever tension the _vod’e_ had built up at the declaration of another round was instantly relieved by Jaster volunteering to fight.

Dooku’s eyes lit up with interest. “Oh, really, _Mand’alor_ ,” he said quietly. “That would be a fight worth having.”

Al’ay looked like she was about ready to burst with the news. Jaster dismissed her with a nod, and she bustled back to her _vod’e_.

“Well, this will be fun,” Cody said from behind Jaster.

“Right? Kark, the bets we could make.” Waxer sounded awed. 

“It’s too bad Darist is off tossing that _shabuir_ to the Guard. She’s been a great wingmate for the hustling,” Boil added, sounding disappointed. 

“Try Kree,” Jaster said. “He’s the _verd_ who Darist was standing next to at the bar. Another one of my Headhunters, and the one who makes my washtub-still booze.”

“Oh reaaallly,” Waxer drawled, then grabbed at Boil's arm and tugged him into the crowd. Apparently the _vod'e_ had calmed down enough to risk separating into smaller groups again.

Kark. Jaster probably shouldn’t have mentioned the booze. Ah well. If his _ad’e_ wanted to get smashed, they were clever enough to find a way to do it anyways, and at least if they went to Kree, then anything they got from him, Jaster would hear about.

“That was very good liquor,” Dooku mused.

“Was it?” Sifo-Dyas asked. His eyes crinkled with mirth and there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Very potent.” Dooku nodded. “Tasted like apples and hyperdrive fuel, and burned just as much.”

“That certainly sounds… interesting.” Sifo-Dyas looked even more amused. 

“You don’t sound convinced,” Jaster said.

Sifo-Dyas shook his head. “I don’t partake. Alcohol and Force visions don’t mix.”

Jaster grimaced. No, that didn’t sound like fun at all. He’d seen how the _jetii_ looked after a vision sober, he didn’t want to think about what that reaction would be with liquor involved. 

“Is that so?” Helix asked, though he was glaring at Ben.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Oh, enough of that. You know very well that I drink sparingly, and my visions are rare enough that interaction is unlikely.”

“Uh huh.” Helix kept up the glare. 

“Who do you think they’re gonna bet on?” Jango asked, very deliberately changing the topic. He was craning his head around to watch Waxer and Boil at the bar. The two _vod’e_ were already in deep negotiations with Kree, who appeared delighted.

 _That bodes well_ , Jaster thought sarcastically.

“I don’t think I want to know,” he said out loud. “I’m not sure my ego could take it.”

That prompted several barks of laughter from the _vod’e_. Dooku didn’t laugh, but he smirked in a way that implied to Jaster that he was planning something.

Since it looked like _Buir_ Az’okk’s people were almost ready to reopen the ring, Jaster started taking off his upper armor. 

Instantly, the chatter around the room picked up in intensity. Everyone knew that this meant that Jaster was going into the ring.

Dooku drank some water and spoke quietly with Sifo-Dyas and Obi-Wan while Jaster finished getting ready.

This was probably gonna end with Jaster getting his ass handed to him. He was a good fighter. Really good. He had to be, to be in the position he was. The _verd’e_ and clans who followed him did so in part because he was able to punch the shit out of an opponent. That was part of the source of their respect for him, and it had been especially important in the beginning. As he grew older, he knew that it would become acceptable for him to declare a champion to fight for him in challenges. Right now was a different matter. 

Nerves fluttered through him. The same pre-battle jitters that he always got. The excitement of the upcoming fight was more prominent. He wouldn’t even kriffing care if he lost. This was going to be _great_.

When the ring was cleared, both Jaster and Dooku stood up. Dooku handed Obi-Wan back to Sifo-Dyas, and then set his ‘sabres on the table in front of his _riduur_ as well. Jaster was very amused to see that Sifo-Dyas kept a firm hold on the youngling. 

“No jumping into the ring, alright _ad_?” Jaster said with a grin, ruffling the little one’s hair as he walked by.

Obi-Wan gave him an incredibly dubious look. “Only if I don’t need to.”

That made the rest of the table smile and snicker. Most of the _vod’e_ had taken their seats, though they clustered protectively around Sifo-Dyas, Obi-Wan, and Ben. 

By the time Jaster made it to the ring, all of his focus was on Dooku. There was cheering and the dull roar of noise that lots of people moving always made. He barely heard it. There was a vicious grin on his face, but that, too, was something he didn’t pay much attention to. 

Dooku had a barely-there smirk on. Unlike the expression he'd worn during all of his previous bouts, this time it didn’t look condescending. There was real interest there instead, and a glee that matched Jaster’s own. 

Maybe Dooku was just sizing up his opponent. Maybe that’s what that look was. From where Jaster was standing, it looked a hell of a lot like Dooku was checking him out. Jaster’s grin turned into a bit of a leer and he returned the favor. 

It was a very nice view. 

Since he was in good shape himself, he knew he was giving Dooku a nice eyefull too. He’d yet to have any disappointed remarks from past partners.

Jaster saluted him, fist to his heart. Dooku responded with a respectful bow. Their eyes stayed locked the whole time. 

Throughout all the previous fights, Jaster had been paying attention. That would be an advantage here. He’d had several fine examples of how Dooku moved. The _jetii_ liked to rely on his positioning to keep himself out of the way of an attack rather than actually blocking. His attacks used the momentum of his opponent, which meant that Jaster would need to be able to go with that and turn a counter attack from Dooku back to his advantage. 

All of the rest of the _verd’e_ had started swinging first. Jaster was curious what would happen if he didn’t.

Jaster held up his hands in front of him, not quite balling them into fists. He’d need to be loose for this. 

Taan dropped his arm.

Rather than launch himself forward, Jaster took a careful step to the side. Dooku turned with him, maintaining the space between them. They circled each other slowly. Each move was measured as they both watched for a hint of attack. 

Then Dooku shot forward and reached in for a grab to Jaster’s arm. Jaster dodged, but only just barely. Before Dooku could recover, Jaster followed up with a strike aimed at Dooku’s extended arm.

He missed. The two of them broke apart and went back to circling. 

This time they both were grinning. 

“You’re light on your feet, _Mand’alor_ ,” Dooku said as they circled one another.

“I admit, I wasn’t expecting the grab,” Jaster replied.

“Were you not?” Dooku raised an eyebrow at him.

Maybe he was. A little. But Jaster didn’t think that ‘hoping’ and ‘expecting’ were the same things.

Rather than respond with words, Dooku dashed in again. This time he lunged forward with a terrifyingly quick strike. Jaster shifted to the side. He wasn’t fast enough. Dooku’s fist clipped past his jaw, throwing Jaster’s balance off a little. It wasn’t enough to slow him down.

Jaster twisted in with a balanced spin, countering with an elbow to Dooku’s face. That, too, just barely clipped the intended target, though Jaster bet that Dooku’s nose would sting something fierce after this. 

Kark, but Dooku was a tall man. The extra reach it gave him was killer. 

Dooku closed the distance and wrapped his hands around Jaster’s upper arm in an attempt to get him into a lock. Since Jaster knew that pulling away would only lend Dooku the momentum he needed to secure that arm bar, instead he moved with Dooku’s pull, stepping into the _jetii_ ’s center and pushing him off balance.

It didn’t get him very far. Before Jaster could follow up with a cross to Dooku’s face, Dooku rolled backward.

Taking Jaster with him.

To his mild surprise, Dooku didn’t keep the hold on his arm as he threw him. He let go, allowing Jaster to regain control of his space.

Jaster ducked into a roll just in time to keep from face planting, and then sprang back up into a defensive crouch. Dooku must have done something similar, because he was again facing Jaster from a reasonable distance away, grinning and ready.

The _jetii_ was karking giving him a win!

No. That wasn’t right. Dooku wasn’t letting him win, he was making the fight look _good_.

Jaster didn’t know if he should be offended or pleased. Maybe both? Yeah, probably both.

Kriff that. 

He dashed in low, very low, and aimed for a solid punch right to Dooku’s thigh. A couple inches lower and he would have hit the knee. Jaster didn’t even try to aim for that. First, because he didn’t want to actually cripple his maybe-friend, and second because it would have been an awkward hit. 

Dooku bit back a curse. Then pain exploded along Jaster’s open side. He was sure that it wasn’t a close fist punch; the sensation was too sharp for that.

Jaster didn’t pay any attention to it, not any more than his body forced him to. He was already striking again.

They traded blows back and forth. Jaster forced himself to stay up in Dooku’s space, keeping him as off balance as he could, all while Dooku shifted around him like swirling sand. He got at least a couple more solid hits in and several glancing ones. Dooku made him pay for each one. Jaster consoled himself with the fact that Dooku missed as many hits as he landed.

The pace was blindingly fast. Both of them were moving at speeds that made Jaster grateful that they were aiming for non-critical body parts. At this rate, a hit to something delicate would need more than a bacta patch to cure and would absolutely bring Helix’s wrath down on all of them.

Jaster’s blood was up. Adrenaline soared through him and he didn’t even kriffing _feel_ the hits scored against him. He did feel the way his bones vibrated with every strike landed against Dooku. Each one was solid and jarring and he knew he was leaving bruises. 

One moment, Jaster had just landed a hit to Dooku’s shoulder, and the next he was on his back.

 _Kark_ , but the floor was _cold!_ He suddenly was aware of how overheated and sweaty he’d become.

Before he could roll away, Dooku was on him with his arm wound up for a knock out strike.

Jaster threw up one arm to block, shoving Dooku’s arm out of the way. At the same time, he countered by getting his heel of his other palm under Dooku’s chin and _shoving_.

Dooku made a satisfying _urrk_ sound that Jaster felt more than heard. 

With the _jetii_ off balance, Jaster turned his blocking arm into an attack, wrapping it around Dooku’s striking arm to drag him close. Then he bucked up with his hips, rolling them both over.

Then Jaster was on top, with Dooku pinned to the floor. 

He didn’t even have time to grin. Dooku’s legs were around his chest, _squeezing_.

Holy kriffing _kark_ but that hurt. That _shabuir_ was going to break his ribs at this rate. 

Jaster dug his elbow into the soft inner side of Dooku’s thigh, and dragged that pointy bone straight down right into the nerve there.

That was enough to loosen Dooku’s grip on Jaster’s ribs. The moment he had space to breathe, he tried to duck down under Dooku’s leg.

Tried. 

Long before Jaster expected him to recover from the hit to his nerves, Dooku tightened up his hold with his legs. Jaster hadn’t finished squirming out of the first hold yet. That meant that Dooku’s thighs were now very tightly wrapped around his neck. 

It wasn’t a clean hold. Jaster had managed to tuck his chin in, protecting his windpipe. Unfortunately, that meant he was almost being smothered by muscle and body-warm fabric as Dooku’s inner thigh almost completely covered Jaster’s mouth and nose.

Without even thinking about it, Jaster moved to try and pull Dooku’s legs apart. It was a futile effort and they both damn well knew it. He couldn’t stop himself from trying.

Nor could he stop his brain from taking a split second to think, _Oh kriff the fabric here is worn from wear and soft and WARM holy kark because my head is RIGHT NEXT TO--_

As soon as the thought appeared, he shoved it aside to focus on the important matter of actually kriffing breathing. His fingers clawed uselessly at Dooku’s legs, and it was getting harder and harder to get a decent lungful of air. The room started to swim a little.

He couldn’t get free, and he karking well couldn’t twist out of the way. Dooku had some serious leg strength. 

_Karking jetii_. 

Time for a last resort kind of attack, because there was no karking way in sith-hells that Jaster was going to tap out of a fight with his head between someone’s thighs.

He turned his head so his mouth was flush with Dooku’s inner thigh, and then he bit down. _Hard_. The fabric was rough and sweat-salty on his tongue and Jaster absolutely did not think about that.

It had the desired effect. Jaster felt more than heard the strangled sound that Dooku made. Dooku’s hold let up and Jaster was able to squirm down and under Dooku’s knee, freeing himself. 

He twisted sideways, holding Dooku’s leg with one arm and shoving his other hand up under Dooku’s chin, pushing his face out of the way.

Dooku didn’t even try to struggle out of it. He just wrapped his hands around Jaster’s arm and _twisted_. Suddenly, the arm that Jaster had stretched across Dooku’s chest was at odd angles, with his joints screaming at him.

Pulling away or pushing in would make it worse. Instead, Jaster rolled _over_ Dooku, freeing his arm from the bind.

The roll kept spinning. That kriffing _jetii_ still had a hold on his hand and had put enough leverage on Jaster’s arm to force the roll to continue. 

In a flash, Jaster went from being on his knees with his arm twisted out of shape, to his back with his hand held but arm straight, all the way back to being facedown again.

And now, somehow Dooku had managed to get Jaster’s arm barred with his legs. 

_Kriiiiiiiff_.

The floor was karking _hard_ , and something was pressing up against Jaster’s bruised ribs. It kriffing _hurt_ , even through the haze of adrenaline. The room roared around him, a cacophony he barely heard over the thumping of his own heart in his ears.

Jaster twisted in place, trying to curl in to escape the hold. He almost got it. Then Dooku pulled on Jaster’s arm, forcing their bodies close together. Jaster found himself face down on the ground with Dooku’s legs over his neck and his back. His arm was pulled up between Dooku’s legs, held in place by Dooku’s iron grip.

He couldn’t kriffing move. 

Then Dooku did _something_. A quick flex of his hips that shoved Jaster’s face further down into the floor and put stress right on his elbow and twisted wrist. Which part of Dooku was fulcrum for that stress, Jaster didn’t really have time to think about. He was too busy dealing with the ever growing pain in his joints.

“Argh, yield,” Jaster let out with a strangled groan, tapping out with his free hand.

Immediately, the pain was gone and Jaster was free to roll away.

Which he did, quickly. And then let himself breathe on the floor for a minute, because _holy kark_. He felt absolutely sticky with sweat, and probably some blood, too. His mouth had that familiar metallic taste that said something had gotten cut. 

The room was incoherently loud with cheering.

Jaster dragged himself up to sitting, just in time to see Dooku do the same. He couldn’t stop the bubbling laugh that rolled out of him. 

Dooku was grinning too, and his shoulders were shaking with laughter. He had an impressive looking black eye already, and that sharp nose of his was bloody. 

Jaster held out his hand to Dooku, and Dooku leaned in to clasp it, hand to elbow as the _mando'ad'e_ did it. By mutual and unspoken consent, they both used the leverage against the other to stand up.

“Well done, _Mand’alor_ ,” Dooku yelled into his ear. The clapping and screaming was so loud around them that Jaster barely heard him. 

Jaster nodded and patted Dooku’s shoulder with his free hand. “Good fight!”

Taan came over to raise Dooku’s arm and declare him the winner. Rather than heading back towards the table, Jaster stood back and gave some applause as well. 

His whole body was humming with the thrill of the fight. Everything felt stiff and a bit swollen, and kriff but he knew that as soon as the adrenaline wore off, he was going to karking _hurt_. Right now he felt fantastic. 

As soon as Taan dropped Dooku’s arm, Jaster slapped Dooku on the back and steered them both towards the table. Dooku laughed and went along with him.

Thank kriff their seats weren’t far away. That adrenaline was wearing off way faster than Jaster wanted it to.

He sat down with a thump.

Helix was already there with some antibacterial wipes. By that time the noise had calmed down enough that Jaster could actually hear more than just yelling.

“You are gonna hate yourself tomorrow morning,” Helix said.

“I really doubt it,” Jaster said. He couldn’t wipe the grin off of his face. “Kriff, but that was _fun_.”

“Agreed, _Mand’alor_ ,” Dooku said. 

Obi-Wan was bouncing next to Dooku’s chair while Sifo-Dyas looked Dooku over with possessive interest. 

“Wow! That was a-maz-ing, Master Doo!” Obi-Wan chattered happily. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, youngling,” Dooku said with a dismissive wave. 

“That was an impressive fight,” Ben said. 

“You are really fast, _buir_ ,” Cody said. “You did great.”

“You need to show me how to get out of that arm bar,” Jaster said to Dooku.

It wasn’t that he wanted to know, though he did. It was more that he was definitely interested in some regular hands-on training with the _jetii_. This fight had been a blast. It was always fun to spar with someone well trained. Jaster knew he wasn’t mistaken in the belief that Dooku had enjoyed their fight, too.

“Gladly, _Mand’alor_. Though, perhaps not tomorrow.” Dooku rolled his shoulder and winced.

That just set off the whole table with snickers and giggles. 

All except for Helix, who just scowled at them both. “No serious injuries, huh?”

Sifo-Dyas placed a hand on Dooku’s shoulder, and his eyes went unfocused. “Nothing that I can see, Helix. A round of healing trance before bed and he’ll be good as new.”

“Well, that’s karking handy,” Jaster grumbled, though he was more amused than upset.

Now that the biggest fight of the evening was over, Waxer and Boil grabbed for their respective wingmates and dove back into the crowd to collect more of their winnings. Kark, but Jaster had somehow ended up adopting a pair of expert con artists.

\--- POV: Waxer Mereel ---

He knew without even having to look at their table that Mariik and his friends were going to try to fight to keep them from collecting on their wager. And he could tell Darist knew it, too. She followed him towards the first table they'd laid wagers with, instead, and the occupants immediately started ruefully laughing.

"Looks like your instincts served you well, _ver'alor_ ," their spokesman grumbled. "That's all of us you've caught out in that bet on the pit fights."

Darist, who knew how to be gracious in victory, grinned. "It was far from a completely sure bet," she said smoothly. And Waxer knew it wasn't even a lie, given that _she_ definitely hadn't been as sure as he had about the outcomes. "For what it's worth, I didn't entirely believe I'd win."

"The _ver'alor_ is karking good at bluffing," Waxer added, with a nod. "Don't feel bad."

His statement got him a sardonic look. "And you helped her," their leader pointed out.

Waxer didn't deny it.

As the table muttered more or less good natured curses under their breath, he grinned. In the network, he could feel his _vod'e_ watching him and Darist, though for now it was mostly idle curiosity. They all knew he and Darist and Kree and Boil had gone off to collect on the wagers they'd made on Master Dooku's bouts, and were no doubt wondering what kinds of loot they'd come back to the table with, this time. Boil felt largely gleeful, as he gathered up what were likely a lot of owed favours and Kree followed suit with the credits.

One by one, the eight _verd'e_ at the table put in what they'd wagered, and Darist gathered up their winnings with a nod, then waved over a server and ordered the table two pitchers of _ne'tra gal_. "Have a round, on me," she told them with a wave. "You deserve it after that kind of loss."

One of the _verd'e_ at the table laughed. " _Ver'alor_ knows how to live in style," she said as the requested pitchers promptly arrived, and offered a more or less serious salute. " _Oya_!"

" _Oya_!" Darist answered, returning the salute.

By unspoken agreement, he and Darist avoided Mariik's table and stopped at the others that Darist had cleaned out while he'd been at the bar scamming another round of dessert. She'd left off on collecting on those wagers until now, apparently.

Each of the other three groups they'd made wagers with reacted more or less as the first had, and Darist bought them all drinks, which salved the sting of losing.

Once they'd finished that, they fetched up at the table of Grunts and their Headhunter friend, again.

"Finished collecting on your winnings, Darist?" Zeiirk asked her with a smirk. "That's a fine pile of credits you've accumulated, there."

Darist laughed, surprising her _verd_. "Oh, Zeiirk, these belong to the _ad'e be'Mand'alor_. Not me."

" _What?_ " One of the Grunts exclaimed.

Waxer smirked. "My _vod'e_ and I needed an adult to help us make the wagers we wanted to," he said in explanation. "Kree and Darist decided to do it. They'll each be getting a cut of the profits, obviously."

Zeiirk stared at him for a moment, then started laughing uproariously. "Oh, kark," she gasped out, "that's the best thing I think I've heard in weeks."

Kar'layi eyed him a bit dubiously. "That so."

"Well, we certainly weren't betting Kree's credits, or Darist's," Waxer told her as Zeiirk's hilarity trailed off into disbelieving giggles. "That'd just be rude."

Darist put an almost proprietary hand on his shoulder. "The _verd'ika_ knows how to work a room. It was impressive."

"And the bet against Mariik's table?" Kar'layi asked.

Waxer growled a few curses under his breath, feeling his earlier anger and outrage come boiling back up. "Those _shabuir'e_ deserve what they're about to get."

"I agree," Darist told him, "but I was serious when I said I wanted to have one of _Buir_ Az'okk's bouncers there when we try to collect."

The Cadet picked up on his emotions, that time, and soon after that the network sat up and took notice, as well. Waxer tried to calm them down. The last thing that would help would be having his _vod'e_ come over to Mariik's table. There was no way that would end in anything other than a brawl, and those _verd'e_ would lose.

 _I'm alright,_ he tried to send, _all clear._

Zeiirk snorted. "You'll likely need one. Mariik doesn't know how to lose gracefully."

Kar'layi nodded, then grimaced. "We don't really need another scene like the one that Clan Rook _di'kut_ caused," she pointed out.

"No, we really don't," Darist agreed.

"Zeiirk, go with the _ver'alor_ ," Kar'layi suggested. "A bit of backup sounds like it wouldn't be a terrible plan. One bouncer and one admittedly excellent _verd_ against a table of eight isn't a fair fight, if it comes to that."

Boil poked at him pointedly in the network, and Helix did much the same. Waxer swore at them in the silence of his mind, sure they would get the gist of what he wanted to say, even if he knew they would only get the emotions behind the words. _I'm fine._

"You really think Mariik would dare risk getting banned?" Darist asked, sounding surprised.

"Over a wager with stakes that high?" Kar'layi shot back, making Darist wince.

"Okay, that's..." Darist groaned. "That's probably not inaccurate."

"Something the matter, _ver'alor_?" Kree asked, coming up to the table with Boil at his side.

Boil gave him a disbelieving look and immediately stepped over to stand next to him while the adults kept talking. "What upset you, _vod_?" he asked quietly.

Waxer didn't bother to hold back the roll of his eyes. "A table of _shabuir'e_."

Zeiirk snorted. "They're lamenting the fact that collecting from Mariik's table is probably going to end in a brawl, considering the collateral they were putting up on their wager," she put in, expanding on Waxer's answer.

Boil nodded, calming now that he knew it was nothing out of the ordinary. Getting a table angry with their wagers was simply a risk they accepted when they played this game. Of course, normally, they were also big enough to deal with the issue themselves.

"That happens every now and then. What's so special about them?" His _riduur_ asked.

"Nothing, but there're eight of them and there's one of me," Darist grumbled. "And Kar'layi thinks they'll start something. But the slightly insulting part is that she also thinks I won't be able to finish it, even with a bouncer as backup."

Kree laughed. "Finally bit off more than you can chew, huh, _ver'alor_?"

That gave Waxer an idea.

"Maybe not," he put in, making everyone at the table turn to look at him in surprise.

Boil grinned. "I like it."

"You haven't even heard what his idea is," Zeiirk pointed out, amused.

"I can guess," Boil answered. "Go on, Waxer, signal the General to send Master Dooku over."

Darist blinked, then laughed. "I like it," she repeated. "Alright, come on, _verd'ika_. Let's go collect. The rest of you, stay put. Kree," she handed him the stack of credits they'd picked up, "take the winnings we've collected so far and keep an eye on them. I have a table to intimidate."

Waxer stood, poking at the Commander in the network, and waited for him to look over. _Commander,_ he signed, _request you send master jetii to assist with next phase of mission. General not needed._

Commander Cody's expression did something strange, getting caught between curiosity and amusement. _Which jetii?_ he signed back.

 _The one that won the fights,_ Waxer replied, adding a sense of _almost there_ in the network. _Our mission is nearly complete but we anticipate some resistance._

\----


	4. Chapter 4

\--- POV: Yan Dooku ---

“Master Doo, do you have a fork I c’n use?” Obi-Wan asked. He was busy looking around the table in front of where he sat on Sy’s lap. Most of the utensils had been cleaned up already, and now the tabletop was strewn with drinks, used bacta and ice patches, and some of the items that Waxer and Boil had won in their first round of betting.

Yan raised an eyebrow at him. “And why would you need one, youngling?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed and he scrunched up his face in annoyance. “‘Cause there are some p’ple who might need to get stabbed, ‘nd you said biting wasn’t a good idea ‘nd I don’t have a knife.”

Sy sighed quietly while the rest of the table came to attention.

“Everything alright, Cadet?” Cody asked. Helix and Ben were busy staring off into the corner of the room that Waxer had wandered off to.

“Waxer’s worried an' annoyed,” Obi-Wan explained.

Yan glanced over. As far as he could see, Waxer was fine, sitting and chatting with Darist and a few other _verd’e_ that Yan remembered seeing at the palace. 

He cast a covert glance to Sy, who shrugged minutely and shook his head. So whatever had gotten Waxer, and thus Obi-Wan, concerned wasn’t something that Sy was able to see.

That just meant that they would have to be extra careful. 

Waxer turned to look over at them, and then he and Cody exchanged some hand signs. Useful, that. Yan wondered if they’d ever be willing to teach him.

“Master Dooku,” Cody said, turning to look at him. “Would you be willing to go lend Waxer and Darist an assist? They’re worried that some of the _verd’e_ they bet against are going to be sore losers.”

Ah. That would explain it. 

Yan smirked. “Give me a moment to set myself to rights, and then I will be over.”

Cody nodded and flashed some hand signs back to Waxer, while Yan put his robes back on and retied his belts and sashes. When he was ready, Sy handed him his ‘sabres without a word. 

“I don’t suppose I’ll look terribly intimidating with a bruised face,” Yan muttered, though he wasn’t truly upset. More to the contrary, he was going to enjoy this. He knew very well that he was a daunting figure most of the time. That was half the reason he dressed in dark colors: to emphasise that effect. It was extremely useful.

“Nonsense,” Sy said. “The cuts look very roguish, and the swelling has already gone down on the bruises. It will remind them of how you got those injuries.”

“He’s right,” Jaster added. “That sort of thing only commands more respect around here.” 

He’d fared a bit worse than Yan had. He also didn’t have Sy gently aiding his recovery with low grade Force healing. Perhaps later Yan might offer to help with a bit of healing. He’d rather save his reserves until they were back at the palace, but maybe before they all retired for sleep...

For all his injuries, the _Mand’alor_ looked pleased as punch. 

It had been a very fun fight. Yan could feel that Jaster had enjoyed it as much as he had. He was sure that Jaster had given him more than one appreciative look. This opened some very interesting possibilities. 

_It’s a pity that Sy is leaving soon,_ Yan thought. If they'd had a little more time to work with, he and Sy might have been able to convince Jaster to have a little fun with them. 

Which made him wonder if Jaster was only interested in _him_ or if he also had interest in Sy as well. If it was just Yan, they could still probably work something out, though it would be trickier. Yan wasn’t terribly interested in flings without Sy there. They also would have to make sure that Jaster wasn’t looking for something more permanent. Both Yan and Sy had duties that came first before any relationship, and they’d been intimate together for long enough that they both knew their commitment to each other was paramount. 

It was something to think about.

Yan finished putting his clothing to rights, and then gave Obi-Wan a stern look. 

“Stay here. Even if there’s trouble. We’ll handle it,” he said firmly.

“Awww.” Obi-Wan quietly pouted. There was an edge of worry to his presence in the Force.

“I won’t let anything happen to your _vod’e_ ,” Yan assured him.

“Thank you, Master Doo.” Obi-Wan leaned forward and gave Yan a hug.

Yan was never quite sure how to deal with this, but by this point he’d realized that the correct response was to carefully pat Obi-Wan on the back. Sy smirked at him in a way that made Yan sure that he was being laughed at. He glared back. This only made Sy smirk more.

There were some stifled snickers from the _vod’e_ , which Yan primly ignored.

After a moment, Yan settled Obi-Wan back onto Sy’s lap. 

“We’ll come with you,” Ben said, nodding towards Cody.

Yan raised an eyebrow at them. “That’s probably unnecessary.”

“We want to watch,” Cody said.

“And someone needs to help you carry all of Waxer’s winnings,” Ben added with perfect logic.

“I’d rather not have more of you in the line of fire than need to be,” Jaster said, eying them all with a frown.

“It could be counter productive to the impression I’ll be trying to give.” Yan gave them all a dry look.

“Master Dooku is gonna go scare the crud out of that bantha poodoo,” Obi-Wan said sagely.

Sy groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Those are swear words, Obi-Wan.”

“Sometimes bad words are needed for em-pah-sis.” Obi-Wan nodded sagely, as Jaster, Jango, and the _vod’e_ cackled. 

“Crèche Master Tinna would be very sad to hear you swearing,” Sy reminded the little one. 

“Oh.” That made Obi-Wan deflate a bit. Then he rallied. “But she’s not here. ‘Nd my _vod’e_ won’t tell her that I said bad words, because they like to swear all the time, and if you tell her I said bad words, then she’d be mad at you.”

Yan had to cover up his mouth. The look of pure disgruntlement on Sy’s face was priceless. 

“I would still tell her if you picked up a habit of swearing, even if she got mad at me. It is both her and my job to make sure that you’re growing up to be a polite, well-spoken person, and she would be more mad at me if I concealed your bad habits for you rather than teaching you to speak properly.”

Sy gave Obi-Wan a very grim, stern look.

“Oh.” Obi-Wan mulled that one over.

“He’s not wrong, you know,” Ben added. “It’ll be a few years yet before Quin teaches all of your cohort the really good swears, but even then it’s frowned upon for a Jedi to speak that way.”

“Because we’re supposed to be diplo-- diplo--”

“Diplomatic,” Sy provided.

“Yeah! That.” Obi-Wan beamed up at him. Then he sobered. “I’m sorry, Master Sy. I’ll try to speak better.”

“You’re doing great, Obi-Wan.” Sy gave him a quick squeeze, which made Obi-Wan squirm and giggle. “Just try not to use the foul language.”

What was most interesting about this exchange was everyone else's reaction to it. Ben was watching with a decidedly mixed expression, while the _vod’e_ grinned with delight. Jango looked slightly more reserved, but still amused. Jaster… him, Yan couldn’t quite get a read on. He felt amused in the Force. That was mixed with something else that bordered on appreciation. Or perhaps attraction. 

Yan would consider it later. He nodded towards Cody and Ben. “Come along, then. We have work to do.”

Ben and Cody stood up and followed him across the room to where Waxer and Boil were sitting.

“Good fighting, _jetii_ ,” Darist said as soon as they were in range.

“Thank you.” Yan nodded at her. “I enjoyed myself immensely.” He nodded in greeting to the rest of the table, and then turned his attention to Waxer and Boil. “I heard you needed an assist?”

“Maybe,” Boil said.

“Probably,” Waxer added. 

Ben and Cody shared a glance. 

“We’ll stay over here and watch as you go collect,” Ben said. 

“Just in case you need more backup.” Cody nodded.

Waxer promptly gave up his chair for Cody, who in turn herded Ben into sitting down.

“If this fight needs more than one Jedi master, I think we have bigger problems,” Boil said with a snort.

“It’s like bringing an ion cannon to a slap fight,” Waxer agreed.

Darist and a few of the other _verd’e_ snickered into their drinks.

“Come, youngling,” Yan said. “Best get it over with. Master Sifo-Dyas and young Obi-Wan will be expecting us back promptly.”

“It’s Darist you’ll be playing back up for,” Waxer said, though he stepped forward anyways.

“Then lead on, _ver’alor_ ,” Yan said, nodding towards her. He was reasonably sure that he’d gotten her formal title correct. Since no one even blinked at it, he assumed he had. 

One day he would really have to sit down and learn the local language. 

Darist had been with him and Jaster during the mine attack on Concordia. She was a solid fighter, and Yan sensed nothing but loyalty from her. He didn’t mind showing her some respect. 

These fools they were about to go speak with, however... Yan knew already that he would have no patience for them at all. He always kept himself standing with impeccable posture. Now, he also wrapped himself in a cloak of disapproval and cold menace, preparing himself for the upcoming 'discussion'. Sy was much better at projecting emotion, but Yan was a fair hand at it himself.

He could tell that his efforts were working when one of the _verd’e_ at the table they were just leaving swore quietly. 

Sy had said that one day Yan would acquire an armorweave cape. He had to admit, having one would be nice right about now. A good black cloak would look extra imposing over his black and brown robes. 

It was clear to Yan where they were headed. The table radiated seething upset in the Force, an effect that doubled once it was clear that Darist was leading him and Waxer over. 

Before Darist could even get out a word, one of the older _verd’e_ at the table pointed his finger at her and snarled out, “We don’t owe you _osik_ , Darist, so don’t even come over here trying to make a claim.”

“You lost, Mariik. Fair and square,” Darist said, shifting her weight to hook one thumb in her belt. “Pay up.”

Mariik, apparently, slammed his fist onto the table, rattling the glasses. “No, no, no. You bet that the _jetii_ would win all of his fights--”

“And I did,” Yan interrupted, glaring icily at the table.

Several of the _verd’e_ sitting there swallowed hard and quailed in their seats. Mariik only grew angrier.

“No. One fight was forfeit, that’s a defeat.” Mariik spoke as if he were trying to convince himself as much as everyone else. “Your _ad_ had to jump in to save your sorry _shebs_ , and then you used _magic_.” He spit out the last word with scorn and mockery.

Yan rolled his eyes. “My opponent was very soundly beaten. He had to resort to poison to even have a hope of winning, and then he was so pathetic that a five-year-old got the drop on him. You lost your bets. Be honorable and pay them.”

“Why are you even here?” another _verd_ at the table said. “Couldn’t fight your own battles, _ver’alor_?”

Darist stiffened at the insult.

“Why you little--” she started.

“My dear Obi-Wan,” Yan said, interrupting her smoothly. “You know, the little one in mine and Master Sifo-Dyas’ care? He sensed that you all might be stubborn and have the poor taste to not follow through on your word, so he asked that he be allowed to come stab you with his fork. Charming child isn’t allowed knives yet.” Yan grinned menacingly at them.

“Oh for kriff’s sake,” Waxer muttered. He was smothering a grin under one hand.

“So I’ve come instead to set him at ease. He worries so over his _vod’e_.” Yan gestured towards Waxer. “I would be deeply grieved to see anything untoward happen to them.”

The last was said with quiet, deadly threat. 

The table settled into an uneasy silence.

Yan allowed himself a small, pleased smirk.

“Then again,” he said quietly, “do continue to give me an excuse to have some fun.”

Darist’s irritation smoothed away, still present but not as sharp against Yan’s senses. 

“Now, now, _jetii_ , no need to get _Buir_ Az’okk mad at us, too,” she said. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Yan made sure to imply that he was very fondly dreaming of wiping the floor with them at that very moment. 

“You _jetiise_ are kriffing crazy,” one of the _verd’e_ at the table said.

“So I’ve heard.” Yan sniffed, unimpressed. 

“What’s the problem here?” _Buir_ Az’okk asked. Walking up to the table with her were two of her armored bouncers. 

“These _besom’e_ don’t want to pay up after a lost bet,” Waxer said, waving a hand at the table. 

“ _Osik!_ ” Mariik shouted. “These two rigged their bet!”

If Waxer had rolled his eyes any harder, he might have lost them in the back of his skull. “You’re the ones who agreed to the terms. Not our fault you didn’t believe the _jetiise_ are good fighters.”

“You made the deal, Mariik. The _jetii_ won all his fights, which means you owe us a pretty stack of weapons,” Darist said. 

“He forfeited!”

“Enough!” _Buir_ Az’okk raised her hand to silence them all. “A fight interrupted due to an _assination attempt_ isn’t a loss. Every fight that the _jetii_ engaged in, he won. If those were the only terms of the bet?” She looked expectantly at Darist.

Darist nodded.

“Right. Then you lost. Pay up and get out. You all know the rules. You make a bet here, you keep your deal. _Haat, ijaa, haa’it_. You all are banned for a month.” When it looked like there might be objections, _Buir_ Az’okk glared at them all. “ _I will not have fighting at my bar_. If you want to throw punches, you get in the ring.”

There was a short moment of silence as the group at the table shifted uneasily. Then they all started pulling out weapons and setting them on the table. 

By pure force of will, Yan kept the amusement off of his face. Sith-hells, Waxer -- for he was certain that this whole event had been orchestrated by the little con artist -- had convinced them all to bet their primary weapons. None of the pieces left on the table were of poor quality. 

Force, but Yan almost felt bad for Jaster. 

Then he amended that thought. He would be on Mandalore for the foreseeable future, so anything the _vod’e_ got involved with, Ben would follow them into, which would undoubtedly drag Yan along as well.

Well. No wonder Sy looked amused more often than not when discussing Yan’s future time with them on Mandalore.

On the other hand… Perhaps Yan should organize a trip to Nar Shaddaa with all of them. Nothing like a casino planet to hone one’s skills at gambling.

Mariik and his cohorts finished piling their losses on the table and then left with ill grace, escorted out by the bouncers. 

_Buir_ Az’okk turned to look at Darist and Waxer. Then she raised an eyebrow at the table. 

“Hell of a haul,” she said dryly.

“There was no way Master Dooku was gonna lose,” Waxer said with a roll of his eyes.

Yan let his presence warm to something more natural, and he smirked at the youngling. “Your confidence in me is flattering. Though I admit that the _Mand’alor_ gave me a run for my credits.”

“Pfft. We’ve seen _jetiise_ fight.” Waxer snorted, and waved Ben and Cody over. “Dibs on the rifle for Longshot.”

It was curious that Waxer should mention that. From what Ben and Obi-Wan had talked about, Ben didn’t care for this kind of sparring due to unpleasant past experience. Which implied that Waxer had seen some other Jedi fight like this. Maybe Ben’s yet-unnamed former padawan. 

“Kriff, _vod_ ,” Cody said ruefully, eyeing a couple of the blasters.

“Load up, Commander,” Waxer said happily.

_Buir_ Az’okk huffed in amusement, shook her head, and walked off. No doubt she had other matters to attend to. 

“You know, it’s a pity that you weren’t able to keep going with the fights,” Darist said as she examined one of the vibro knives that Waxer and Cody had been unable to fit in their hands.

“Oh?” Yan raised an eyebrow at her. Now that this little mess was taken care of, he was back to allowing himself to smile a tiny bit. This evening had been extremely entertaining. The only thing that would make it better would be if Sy would show off a bit, too. 

As sore as Yan was, he knew very well just how much Sy enjoyed watching him fight. He was looking forward to having a _very_ satisfactory night with his dearest friend once they were all back to the palace and Obi-Wan was safely asleep. 

“Ayup.” Darist grinned at him. “Fun to watch, sure, but one of the other tables was sending some _verd’e_ to go fight you with the express purpose of feeling you up.”

Ben sputtered and Yan blinked. 

“I beg your pardon,” Yan said. 

“Lotta _verd’e_ like a strong fighter. I’m pretty sure that there were plans to see if they could strip you while in the ring.” She leered at him.

At some point, Boil and another _verd_ \-- Kree, if he was remembering the man's name correctly -- had joined them. Boil, Kree, and Waxer outright cackled at whatever expression Yan was making. 

It was probably disbelief. Surely, that’s what Yan’s face was doing. He couldn’t quite tell over the incredible urge to bury his face in one hand. 

“Sy is never going to let me live this down,” he muttered.

That just made the laughter grow louder. Cody at least had the grace to stifle his snickers. Ben looked very much like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. Yan sympathised. 

“You know, Master Dooku, we could win some more bets if you let us in on the secret of whether or not you’re wearing underclothes.” Waxer grinned at him like a carnivorous predator. 

Yan gave him a flat, unimpressed stare.

The intimidation factor of his look was greatly diminished by how Kree was crying from laughing so hard, and how Darist was leaning on Kree’s shoulder to stay upright. 

“As compelling as that question is, I’m afraid you are too young to know the answer to it,” Yan said sternly.

“But you could tell the _verd’e_ and settle some bets?” Waxer tried gamely. 

By now, Ben had his face in both hands, and Cody was whispering, “Oh Force, _vod_.” He looked like some mix of amused and impressed.

Kree and Darist appeared to be in serious danger of death by suffocation. 

“I see that you’ve volunteered for meditation practice tomorrow,” Yan said. “I think at least three hours might do the trick.”

“Awww.” Waxer pouted.

“You had that coming,” Ben said, finally composing himself. 

“Chin up, _vod_. The Cadet will keep you company until his attention span runs out,” Cody said. 

Waxer looked like he wanted to grumble, but didn’t.

Probably wise of him. Yan might have added more hours to his punishment. 

Between all of them, they were able to easily carry all of Waxer’s winnings back to the rest of the group. There were more than a few amused glances at them as they made their way through the crowded room.

Yan quickly mulled over the evening’s events as they headed over.

If Sy was planning on going out for a demonstration, or even a fight or two, Yan would have to warn him that the locals were contemplating an unamusing loss of dignity for them. It would hardly be the first time that someone had tried to take liberties with a Jedi. 

He hoped that wouldn’t deter Sy’s interest. Yan wanted to see how well the _Mand’alor_ enjoyed Sy’s sparring. Even in the best case scenario, it was too soon to act on any potential mutual interest. The political situation was still delicate. As much as Yan had grown to appreciate Jaster’s cleverness and abilities, it would be better to gather information and talk everything over with Sy later. 

For now, Yan was quite interested in watching Jaster watch Sy. 

He always enjoyed it when others granted Sy a proper amount of appreciation. He could tell Sy about Jaster’s reactions later. That could be very fun, indeed. 

\--

\--- POV: Jaster Mereel ---

Waxer and Boil finally made their way back to the table, with Ben, Cody, Dooku, Darist, and Kree trailing behind.

All three of his _ad’ike_ had their arms full carrying the assortment of weapons they'd apparently karking convinced that last table to wager. Darist and Kree carried armfuls of credit chips, bags, and miscellaneous items. Both Waxer and Boil were grinning like the kriffing sharks that they were. Ben and Dooku both looked very amused. Ben's expression, Jaster suspected, was because his _vod'e_ had pulled off a spectacular heist with their wagers. He wasn't quite sure about Dooku's, but he wouldn't have put it past that _jetii_ to simply enjoy intimidating people.

“Nice fight, _buir_!” Boil said, dumping his portion of the ill-gotten gains onto the table. 

Jaster surveyed the pile of loot. Apparently, Waxer had managed to not just force an entire table of _verd'e_ to part with their weapons. He'd managed to score some expensive kit -- albeit with Darist and Master Dooku's help. There were some _very_ nice looking items among those winnings. He whistled, low and impressed.

Once everything had been unloaded onto the table, Waxer immediately started handing a variety of items out, giving Longshot the rifle he'd acquired, and Jango one of the westar pistols. Four of the knives went to Crys, Wooley, Helix and Boil. Two more very nice vibroblade knives landed in front of Jaster, to his surprise, and he picked one up to examine it. Cody got the other matching westar pistol, and the rest of the weapons got added to what was apparently the communal pile. Some credits were counted off and handed to Darist and Kree, who both looked immensely pleased with their share of the haul.

All of the _vod'e_ exchanged looks and grinned. "It's a good start," Waxer told them.

"We've got plenty of favours to cash in and lots of things we can sell for credits," Boil confirmed. " _Buir_ 's bout with Master Dooku was amazingly profitable."

“You bet against me,” Jaster said with a sigh, and readjusted his ice pack. A little more icing and then he’d put some bacta on it.

“Only a little,” Boil said. “We also bet on how many hits you’d get on Master Dooku, and how long the fight would go.”

Jango looked up from inspecting his new pistol and cackled. “Ahh, how the tables have turned, _buir_.”

Jaster glared at his _ad_ , which only made the rest of the younglings laugh more.

The servers came by with more water and a couple pitchers of juice. There were a few ice packs and bacta patches along with the drinks as well, which were received with relief. Jaster had been briefly worried about there being enough for everyone. That was one of the reasons that he’d been holding off. He wanted to make sure that there was enough for his _ad’ike_ first.

“We’re going to get back to the palace and people are going to wonder if we got ambushed on the way home,” Ben commented with a smirk.

It was true that half of them were sporting visible injuries at this point. 

“Nah, General. They’ll wonder if we ambushed someone else,” Waxer said, waving a hand towards the small mountain of credits and other sundry items on the table. 

“I’ve got you, _buir_ ,” Helix said, taking the bacta patch out of Jaster’s hands. 

“Thanks, _ad_.” Jaster sat back and let Helix replace the ice on his ribs and face with the extra patches.

His touch was deft and sure; Jaster relaxed into it. The warm glow of pride filled him up. He had such good _ad’ike_.

While Helix worked, the rest of the table chattered and sipped their drinks. The _vod’e_ cooed over their winnings while Ben watched with a small, fond smile. Dooku and Sifo-Dyas sat with their heads bowed towards each other, speaking quietly while Obi-Wan bounced with excitement on Sifo-Dyas’ lap.

They were up to something.

Right about the time Jaster was thinking that, the _vod’e_ seemed to catch on, too.

“Everything alright, Masters?” Cody asked. His voice didn’t sound worried, so much as he sounded like a suspicious teacher finding a group of scheming _ad’ike_ alone in a classroom.

“Fine, Cody--” Dooku started.

“Master Sy is gonna go in the ring!” Obi-Wan interrupted, wiggling with excitement.

_Oh really?_

Jaster wasn’t the only one with raised eyebrows at the table. Of the two masters, Dooku was the one who seemed to like to fight more. Although… Sifo-Dyas did seem to have fun wherever Jaster had seen him sparring, and they both did plenty of training and drills.

“Don’t interrupt, Obi-Wan,” Sifo-Dyas gently admonished.

“Sorry, Master Sy.” Obi-Wan barely reined in his excitement.

“But, yes, I was considering doing a weapons demonstration.”

“Oh yeah, you did say you carried other things,” Waxer said, looking up from his new weapon collection.

Sifo-Dyas nodded. “Blade is tempting, but I was thinking staff.”

Jaster looked up at the ceiling above the ring. 

There were several feet of clearance above the fighters' heads; _Buir_ Az’okk didn’t put up wind chimes above the ring, so the space was open up to the ceiling. He still had his doubts about whether it was enough for a good staff demonstration. One of _Buir_ Az’okk’s _verd_ had done one earlier with a short staff; anything longer than that might have difficulties.

“I know how to judge my space,” Sifo-Dyas said to him. Clearly, he’d seen Jaster’s dubious look at the clearance. 

“I have no doubt of that, _jetii_ ,” Jaster replied. Over and over, he’d been impressed with how skilled the _jetiise_ were in the arts of war. He wasn’t about to question Sifo-Dyas’ statement.

Sifo-Dyas still looked like he was debating whether he should give it a go, looking pensively at the two _verd'e_ currently in the ring. Another round of fighting had started while they'd all been busy getting patched up and sorting out their bets. 

“Your skill with staff is most unusual for the Order. I imagine that the Mandalorians would be excited to see the skill displayed,” Dooku said. 

Kark, but that man did like to throw fuel on a burning fire. Jaster admired that quality, especially in this situation when it wasn’t directed at him.

Sifo-Dyas gave Dooku a smirk along with a raised eyebrow, like he knew exactly what Dooku was doing and wasn’t fooled for a minute.

“Please, Master Sy? It would be so a-maz-ing.” Obi-Wan peered up to Sifo-Dyas with wide, hopeful eyes. 

When that didn’t seem to tip him over, Crys jumped in with, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a _jetii_ do any kind of weapons demo with anything other than a ‘sabre or a blaster.”

“I’d love to see it,” Boil added.

“Agreed,” Jaster said. “If you’re comfortable with it,” he added.

He didn’t want to bully the quiet _jetii_. 

Sifo-Dyas’ smirk melted into a small, delighted smile. “Alright. Obi-Wan, you’ll be staying in Master Dooku’s lap, please.”

“Hooray! I mean, yes, Master Sy.” Obi-Wan promptly eeled out of Sifo-Dyas’ grip and climbed up onto Dooku’s lap. Dooku had long since put his robes back on, so at least there was a little padding between his bruises and Obi-Wan’s pointy knees and elbows, but Jaster could still see him wincing a bit.

A sense of smug pleasure filled Jaster up at the thought that he’d left Dooku with as many bruises as he’d gotten in return. 

Jaster made an effort not to leer at the Sifo-Dyas as he stripped out of his robes. He only took a couple of looks. One or two. It was professional curiosity only, as both of them were warriors. He didn’t want to scare the _jetii_ off, and he maybe felt just a touch bad about the bite mark he’d no doubt left on Dooku. That probably hadn’t been very nice of him…

Sifo-Dyas didn’t seem to notice the mild attention at all. Dooku, on the other hand, cast Jaster a knowing smirk.

That made Waxer, Boil, Crys, and Wooley all smother cackles, while Ben just sighed like the life was being dragged out of him and Jango grumbled into his drink. 

Luckily, the byplay was totally lost on Obi-Wan, who was busy chattering at Sifo-Dyas. 

“Would you return the favor for me?” Sifo-Dyas asked quietly, handing his ‘sabre to Dooku.

“Always,” Dooku answered fondly. 

Kark. Yeah, they had to be _riduur'e_. Damn.

Ah well. That obviously hadn’t stopped Dooku from flirting delicately and exchanging some interested looks with him, despite the presence of his _riduur_. Jaster decided he would take care to keep his interest to a level that the _jetiise_ were comfortable with.

By this time, the crowd had started to buzz with excitement again. One of the _jetiise_ was going in the ring. After the show that Dooku had put on, they were all eager to see what Sifo-Dyas could do.

Jaster was pretty eager, too. Nothing said he couldn’t look. 

While the ring was getting cleaned up from the previous bout, Sifo-Dyas stepped over to talk to Taan. 

Alright, no, Jaster was definitely looking. Given Dooku's physique and the fact that Sifo-Dyas could keep up with Dooku on the sparring field, he wasn’t surprised that Sifo-Dyas was fit. 

He was surprised by the scars. Dooku's, he'd expected to a certain extent. The man had said before that he’d been on many combat missions. Sifo-Dyas was a High Councilor, though. Not only that, but he’d said himself that he spent most of his time in the Temple. 

So the fact that his shoulders and back were covered with thin, crawling white lines was interesting. They stood out against his warm skin tone. He didn’t recognize the type of wound; they didn’t look like blaster burns or sword cuts, nor did they have the measured spread of shrapnel filled explosions. 

“Lightning,” Dooku said suddenly.

“What?” Jaster pried his eyes away from Sifo-Dyas’ back and looked at Dooku.

“Master Sifo-Dyas ventured into many Sith temples as a padawan and as a knight while exploring with his master, Lene Kostana. Those are dangerous places, filled with both traps and guards. He was scored by Sith lightning more than once,” Dooku explained. 

“Kriff,” Waxer muttered.

Jaster agreed. 

There were old stories about _dar’jetiise_ and their ability to throw lightning, but he’d never put much stock in them. Apparently, he should have.

“He got hit badly enough to scar.” Ben sounded impressed.

“I see you’ve had the pleasure,” Dooku said grimly.

Ben grimaced and rolled his eyes. “Once or twice. I don’t recommend it.”

“It is unpleasant,” Dooku agreed.

Dammit, but Jaster’s list of people to punch just kept getting longer. Ben said he’d fought _dar'jetiise_ , but not that he’d been _electrocuted_. 

Before he could ruminate on that more, Taan and Sifo-Dyas stepped out into the middle of the ring. There was a small sigh of disappointment from the crowd as they realized that Sifo-Dyas would be doing a demonstration, not soliciting a fight. There were several _verd’e_ who’d already stripped off their upper armor in preparation to get in line, who suddenly sat down with a disappointed air. 

Taan held up his hands and stayed just long enough to quiet the crowd, and then he yielded the floor to Sifo-Dyas. 

“While every Jedi is expected to become proficient with a lightsabre, that is far from the only weapon we train with,” Sifo-Dyas said to the crowd. He projected his voice perfectly; his words were clear and loud enough so that everyone would hear, while still sounding conversational.

He held his hand in front of him, and in it was a cylinder not quite a half-foot long. Where he’d been hiding it and when he’d palmed it, Jaster had no idea.

With the quick press of a button, the cylinder extended into a full length staff. 

“This technique comes from my home world, Minashee,” he explained. 

He lazily spun the staff around, and then with a quick, precise movement, he drew it in close to his body. The bulk of the staff was hidden behind his arm as he stood ramrod straight. The top few feet were visible behind and above his shoulder, and the bottom foot and a half extended down past his hand, held closely parallel with his legs. 

Jaster had never seen anyone hold a staff like that. The methods he was familiar with all involved the user’s hands keeping hold of the staff in the middle of the length. Sifo-Dyas held his more like he would a ridiculously long sword, with his hand closer to one end than the other.

He stood at attention for a moment, and then bowed towards their table. As before, the other _jetiise_ bowed their heads back, and Jaster saluted.

Sifo-Dyas stood still for a moment after that with his eyes closed. 

His body was a stark contrast to Dooku’s. Both _jetiise_ were clearly in excellent shape with very little hint of softness about them, but where Dooku’s musculature was heavier and starkly defined, Sifo-Dyas was slim like an acrobat. The moment that he started to move, though, Jaster could see that his appearance was misleading. The man was solid muscle. 

In a flash, Sifo-Dyas' arm shot out and to the side and he held it even with his shoulders, striking an imaginary enemy with the end of his staff. He held there for a solid heartbeat. Then he spun in place, swinging the staff with lightning quickness around him.

His movements were swift and precise. He kept the staff close to his body as he twisted around, limiting the range of his attacks while moving with such speed that the end of the weapon almost whistled in the air.

The spiral attack ended with a solid slap of the staff on the floor, as Sifo-Dyas landed in a deep crouch. That hit would have shattered bone; Jaster could tell by how loudly it rang through the room.

In a blink, Sifo-Dyas was up and moving again. This time, he held the staff pointed out to the side. Again, he kept his lopsided looking grip on it, with one hand near the butt of the staff and the other just a foot or so ahead of it. He stepped forward and jabbed at the empty space in front of him, with the very tip of the weapon touching the exact same point of air.

Another shattering boom echoed through the room as he slammed the staff down onto the floor in a two-handed strike. Jaster had barely even seen him move to do it. 

With the ease of long practice, Sifo-Dyas whipped the staff back and forth, hitting imaginary enemies on all sides of him. Each move was a full body effort, as he crouched and leapt, putting every ounce of his weight behind the blows.

He swung the staff around like a _beskad_ , slicing through the air as if he was cleaving through a wall of enemies. For the life of him, Jaster couldn’t figure out how it didn’t look awkward at all. Something that size shouldn’t have been possible to handle like that. 

That cleaving attack picked up speed, and then Sifo-Dyas was in the air, leaping high and twisting in a near horizontal spin that had the staff twirling under him. He landed in a deep crouch, with the staff held out defensively in front of him. There wasn’t even a hint of a wobble in his landing; it was as solid as if he’d just been standing in place a moment ago rather than jumping several feet in the air. 

_Kark_.

Jaster was kriffing impressed.

“He is very skilled, isn’t he?” Dooku asked quietly. 

Jaster didn’t want to look away from the ring to answer. All he could do was nod.

“Kriffing Force, he is,” Crys answered for him.

“No shit,” Jango muttered in an awed tone.

That reminded Jaster that he was at a table with his _ad’ike_ and that now was not an appropriate time to ask Dooku about Sifo-Dyas’ flexibility. 

Conversation fell by the wayside as Jaster watched the demonstration with open admiration. He was a Force null, and even he could feel the crowd focus avidly on the show in front of them. 

Sifo-Dyas spun and leapt, light on his feet and somehow still solid as the ground below them. As beautiful as the technique's form was, it was also very obviously functional. These moves would be deadly to an enemy. Or, given the way Sifo-Dyas was swinging that staff around, a group of enemies. 

It ended sooner than Jaster wanted it to.

The very last move left Sifo-Dyas standing in exactly the same position he started it, facing their table with the staff tucked behind his arm.

The crowd roared with cheers, with people clapping and banging on tables alike to add more noise to the applause. Jaster and his _aliit_ were no exceptions. Jaster’s _ad’ike_ all were shouting their appreciation. Obi-Wan was practically bounding in Dooku’s lap, screaming his approval. Dooku himself had on a rare grin, though his hands were full keeping Obi-Wan in check.

Sifo-Dyas smiled back at them, open and easy. Before the thunderous noise could fully quiet, he shortened his staff back to its travel length. He casually flipped it in his hand, and then tossed it towards the table. 

Dooku deftly plucked the weapon out of the air and laid it on the table next to Sifo-Dyas’ lightsabre.

“Oh snap, he’s not,” Boil said.

“He _is_ ,” Waxer said with a nod.

Sure enough, Sifo-Dyas turned to look at the rest of the room and waved them forward.

Kriff. If he was even half as good as Dooku, Jaster wanted to see this!

There was another short burst of cheering, and then the _verd’e_ got to the business of figuring out who would face the _jetii_ first. 

“I hope you two aren’t going out for more bets,” Ben asked Waxer and Boil, sounding a bit worried.

Waxer shook his head. “The last haul was really good, and after those _shabuir’e_ gave us a fight, if we bet any more we’d look greedy.”

“Not to mention, we wouldn’t be able to pull off anywhere near the stakes we got earlier,” Boil said. 

“We’re gonna have trouble carrying all that stuff back to the speeder.” Jango eyed the collection of weapons and other items that was currently being sorted into piles by the _vod’e_.

“My _ad’e_ are con artists,” Jaster bemoaned. He couldn’t quite keep the smile off of his face, even if his face was really starting to hurt now.

“We’re legitimate businessmen,” Waxer said in faux-offense. 

“You’re gonna make great bounty hunters,” Jango said, looking at them approvingly.

“Agreed.” Jaster nodded.

The _vod’e_ looked like they’d been struck with a stun baton.

“Bounty hunters?” Crys asked. He shared a glance with Longshot, and then both of them looked at Cody.

Ah. Apparently, they hadn’t thought quite that far ahead. Jaster knew that Ben, at least, was still committed to trying to get back to their proper time. 

Whatever they wanted to do with their futures, Jaster had said he would support it, and he would. Even if it meant them going back through time, and away from the home they’d built here with Jaster and Jango. No matter how much that thought pained him.

Cody exchanged a long, unreadable look with Ben. Jaster and Jango held their peace.

“Well, we have to do something while we figure out the karking Force nonsense,” Cody said after a moment.

“It would make a good excuse to be in some of the places we might need to go to investigate the Force anomaly that sent us here,” Ben added with a reassuring smile.

All of the tension fled out of the group, and was immediately replaced with smiles and excitement. Jaster very carefully breathed out a sigh of relief.

Before anything else could be said, a _verd_ made his way into the ring with Sifo-Dyas. 

The _verd_ was a few inches taller than Sifo-Dyas, and a fair bit heavier. His hair was woven in tight braids against his skull and he had an impressive scar that ran across his cheek. He moved like a fighter used to using his fists.

After how Dooku had schooled the local _verd’e_ so hard, it seemed they’d collectively decided to get a little back against Sifo-Dyas. 

If this had been a normal fight, Jaster would have bet on the _verd_ in an instant. Now, though… he wouldn’t want to risk a wager. The evidence of his eyes told him that the heavier fighter would probably win. Experience told him that the _jetiise_ were collectively badass and ridiculously skilled. Ben had also mentioned that High Councilors were something special, too.

Bows and salutes were offered, and then the two fighters squared off against each other. 

Jaster set his elbows on the table and leaned in to watch. 

The _verd_ stood in a standard brawler’s defense: arms up, knees bent, one foot forward. Sifo-Dyas, to Jaster’s mild surprise, almost mirrored him. Except it looked like he was holding his arms far more rigidly and his stance was much wider. 

When Taan dropped his arm to signal the start of the fight, Sifo-Dyas flew into motion.

In an instant, he was on his opponent, striking fast with close fist punches. The _verd_ took the first two hits outright and then struggled to put his arms up to block. The crowd screamed.

“Kark, that was fast,” Jango said.

“Why are you surprised? He’s a _jetii_.” Cody waved at the fight, as if that was explanation enough.

To be fair, it probably was. 

Soon, it became clear that Sifo-Dyas’ attacks weren’t getting through. He dropped into a crouch so low that he was nearly sitting on the floor and spun a leg out, sweeping the _verd_ right off of his feet. 

The _verd_ landed with a strangled, _ack!_

The crowd _ooooooooh_ ’d, and the _vod’e_ all winced or grinned, depending on personality. Obi-Wan had his hands thrown up into the air and he was incoherently yelling. 

Half a heartbeat later, Sifo-Dyas was on his feet. Jaster barely even saw him raise his leg up and stomp it down, aiming for the _verd_ ’s chest.

The _verd_ barely rolled out of the way. Sifo-Dyas’ foot struck the floor, so loud that Jaster could hear the thump over the roar of the audience. He winced a bit in sympathy for the _verd_. Had that hit landed, he would have been done. 

“Oh damn, he is not playing around,” Waxer said. He’d paused in counting his winnings to watch the fight.

“Doesn’t look like it.” Boil nodded in agreement.

Helix shook his head. “He’s not aiming to break anything.”

Dooku just barked out a laugh. “Younglings, what if he _is_ holding back?”

Jaster had to pry his eyes away from the fight for a moment to stare incredulously at Dooku. It was hard to tell if Dooku was serious or just kriffing with them. 

Before he could comment, his attention was drawn back to the fight.

While the _verd_ had scrambled up to standing again, Sifo-Dyas backed off warily. They circled each other for a moment. Sifo-Dyas rolled his shoulders and gave the _verd_ a surprisingly open and hesitant smile. 

Dooku must have seen Jaster’s puzzled expression, because he leaned over and said, “He’s nervous.”

“What?” Jaster very quickly glanced at him. Ben and Cody did the same, though a trifle less obviously. 

Dooku just shrugged and watched the fight.

The _verd_ grinned back. Then he lunged in, swinging.

Where Dooku might have stepped out of the way, Sifo-Dyas moved in to counterstrike. He punched the inside of the _verd_ ’s swinging arm and then sprung his fist straight up to bash the _verd_ in the face. 

Before the _verd_ could recover, Sifo-Dyas spun in place and swept him off his feet once more. This time he dropped down right after that, pinning the _verd_ ’s throat to the ground with his knee. 

_Kriff_.

That was karking fast. 

Jaster found himself impressed all over again. If this was Sifo-Dyas being nervous, then clearly he knew how to act despite his hesitance. 

It made sense, though. Between the two _jetiise_ , Dooku was the front line fighter. Jaster had been in a thousand and one fights over the years and even he got a touch of nerves before a real fight. 

Sifo-Dyas kept his hands up, ready to strike, until the _verd_ tapped out. He helped the _verd_ up off the floor, again giving him that weirdly tentative smile. He needn’t have been so cautious. The _verd_ was grinning ruefully, even as he wiped a bit of blood from his nose, compliments of that fist he'd taken to the face. Aside from that, it didn’t look like he’d taken that much damage. 

Taan came out to declare Sifo-Dyas the winner, and then they both were shooed off while the floor was quickly wiped up. 

It was as if the earlier debacle had been forgotten. The crowd clapped and cheered. Credits were exchanged. The _verd_ who lost was welcomed back to his table with drinks and a toast. 

Sifo-Dyas came to stand in front of their table while the ring was cleaned.

“Well fought, Master Sifo-Dyas,” Dooku said warmly.

“Thank you.” Sifo-Dyas smiled happily at him. Sweat dripped down his forehead and his long hair was a mess. He quickly got to work retying his topknot. Jaster absolutely did not watch how that motion made his chest and arms flex. That would have been rude. 

From Jango’s exasperated sideways glance, it was possible that Jaster wasn’t succeeding as well as he’d hoped. 

“That was so great!” Obi-Wan said as he nearly jumped up and down in Dooku’s lap. Sifo-Dyas flashed him a grin.

“I’ve never seen a Jedi use a staff like that,” Ben said. “Where did you learn?”

“There are a few others in the Order from my home sector, and my master was able to set me up with regular, if infrequent, lessons during my padawanship.”

“Why bother?” Jango asked. He’d long since lost the ice pack on his nose, though the bacta patch covered up a good portion of his face. 

Sifo-Dyas shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea.”

There was something off about that answer. A little bit of the ease left Sifo-Dyas’ stance and he wasn’t looking at any of them in the eye any more. It could have been that he was just concentrating on getting his hair put to rights. Maybe. 

Jaster was reminded of the meal where the _vod’e_ had questioned Sifo-Dyas about that tablet he’d snuck to them.

“How many more rounds will you fight?” Dooku asked, neatly changing the subject.

“I’m not sure. Maybe a couple.” Sifo-Dyas did one final tug at his topknot and looked around the room. “I think everyone is relaxed enough for that. Any more and I might not fare so well.” He cast them all a self-deprecating smile.

“That seems unlikely,” Jaster said with a snort. 

So far, both _jetiise_ had more than proven that they could hold their own.

“Hmm.” Sifo-Dyas gave him a measuring look. 

Before Jaster could comment on it, the ring was cleared and the next _verd_ was waiting. Taan was waiting off to the side of the ring as he normally did, but both he and the _verd_ were watching Sifo-Dyas with an air of expectation.

Sifo-Dyas took one quick sip of water from his glass, and then stepped back out to meet him. The crowd cheered.

The new opponent was about Jaster’s age, if he were to guess. Slim, and he kept on his undershirt. The paint on the _beskar_ on his legs reminded Jaster of something. The face looked familiar.

Ahh, yes. That _verd_ was one of Jango’s Grunts.

“Who is it?”

“Wen,” Jango said promptly. “He’s alright in a brawl. He’s _ori’ramikad_ , so he’s not terrible. Better with a blaster, though. Against a _jetii_ , he’s gonna get his ass kicked.”

“Why the hell is he up there, then?” Wooley asked.

“Probably so he can try to grope the _jetii_ ,” Waxer answered with a laugh. “Force, you should have heard the tables we were walking through, _vod_. There are a lot of _verd’e_ who are looking for more than just a punch in the face.”

Jaster cast a covert glance at Dooku. To his surprise, the _jetii_ just seemed pleased to hear that his _riduur_ was so coveted. 

That made things a fair bit easier. For Jaster, anyways. It was nice to know that he wouldn’t have to worry about getting ‘sabred in the back by a jealous _jetii_ for showing a little interest.

Salutes and bows were done, and then Sifo-Dyas and Wen were facing off. 

Wen had a ridiculous shit eating grin on his face, and even though he had his hands up in a good fighting stance, he was wiggling his fingers like he couldn’t wait to get a handful. Sifo-Dyas looked like he was about two seconds from cracking up laughing.

“Kriff, Wen, really?” Jango muttered and stopped himself from putting his face on his palm just in time.

Cody snorted in amusement and Crys and Longshot cackled. Jaster grinned.

He was curious how the _jetii_ would handle this sort of thing. Even odds that Dooku would put down an opponent like Wen with zero tolerance, but Sifo-Dyas seemed to have more of a sense of humor. Or at least a more benevolent sense of humor. Dooku was about as dry as they came.

Wen feinted forward. The move was comically overstated. He looked like a holodrama villain ready to pounce on an unsuspecting village maiden, hands poised to carry Sifo-Dyas off to deflower him and still sporting his smarmy grin.

Snickering rippled through the crowd. Jaster found himself hoping that Sifo-Dyas would take the jest well.

At that first feint, Sifo-Dyas just tilted his head and gave Wen a narrow eyed look. Jaster could almost see the confused thoughts running through his head. There was enough distance between them that Wen’s abrupt movement didn’t really put them in range of each other, so it was obvious that Sifo-Dyas felt he wasn’t yet in any danger. 

Wen feinted forward again, a ridiculous move that had him wiggling his fingers like he was after a tickle. This time, Sifo-Dyas flinched back the tiniest bit. His brow was still furrowed, but a smile was starting to grow on his face.

Jaster covered his mouth to smother a snicker.

“What the kriff,” Waxer muttered with an almost impressed grin. 

“He’s gonna get his teeth kicked in,” Helix said flatly.

“You sure about that, _vod_?” Boil asked with a broad smile.

Wen stepped in again, this time he lunged forward a good step.

Sifo-Dyas jumped back. It did not look like the graceful dodge of a master fighter. He leapt back with both feet, like a scared tooka, his shoulders up around his ears and a look of comical panic on his face. One hand covered his mouth, though it looked like he might have said something along the lines of, “Oh no!” The room was too loud to really hear.

That caused Wen to drop his arms and throw back his head in a full body cackle. The room howled along with him, and even Sifo-Dyas and Dooku were grinning. 

Wen’s laughter stopped after only a moment or two, and then he was back in his dramatic villain pose, stalking towards the _jetii_ with exaggerated sneaking steps. With each move forward, Sifo-Dyas shuffled backwards skittishly. He looked around the ring as if desperate for help, but never actually made a real move to get it. No doubt if Dooku thought he was actually in distress, Wen would find himself quickly roasted on a couple of _jetii'kad’e_.

Obi-Wan was giggling so hard it looked like he might be crying.

They circled around the ring, with Wen getting closer and closer and Sifo-Dyas barely jumping out of the way. 

Finally, Wen made an outright grab for him, a barrel armed two handed hug. Sifo-Dyas ducked under his arms just in time, nearly falling to the floor with his dodge. Cheers called out from all around the room at the attempt.

The _jetii_ scrambled along the floor for a moment, and then took off running around the ring, with Wen two steps behind him. They made it all the way around the ring once before Sifo-Dyas made his move.

He leapt straight up in the air, tucking into a tight summersault just as Wen ran right by under him. Wen staggered to a stop while Sifo-Dyas landed light as a loth-cat behind him, crouched close to the ground.

Jango whistled in appreciation at the move. 

Several _verd’e_ in the audience were pointing emphatically behind Wen as he looked around in obviously manufactured confusion. He looked up at the ceiling, and then left and right. All the while, Sifo-Dyas crept closer behind him.

“He’s a total dork,” Wooley muttered. “How did we not see it?”

“How would we? He’s a High Councilor,” Longshot said with a laugh and a shrug. 

“High Councilors have their sense of humor surgically removed once they take the chair,” Ben said dryly. “Just ask Anakin.”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you, General?” Cody smirked at him.

If Jaster hadn't been watching the byplay, he would have totally missed the flicker of a glance that Dooku gave Ben and Cody at that exchange. Jaster knew that Ben had been a High Councilor. If they didn’t watch themselves, they were going to end up giving that away to Dooku, too. 

Whether or not that knowledge would pose a problem was something Jaster would have to ponder later. 

Just as Wen was scratching his head, looking totally puzzled, Sifo-Dyas tapped on his shoulder. 

Wen whirled in place, arms up and ready to grab. He was far too late. Sifo-Dyas had already ducked down and behind him. Several more _verd’e_ jumped on the bandwagon and were trying to point out where the _jetii_ was, but Wen was always just a second too slow to catch a glimpse of him. 

Eventually, Wen crossed his arms and elaborately pouted, visibly put out at his lack of _jetii_ -finding skill.

Sifo-Dyas leaned an elbow on Wen’s shoulder in commiseration. Sympathy was written in every line of his face.

Whatever they were saying was lost to the roaring laughter in the room. Wen was gesturing with one hand in disgust while Sifo-Dyas nodded in mournful understanding. 

From lip reading, Wen was saying something along the lines of, “Karking _jetiise_.” 

Sifo-Dyas was clearly answering with, “I know, I know, it’s terrible.”

Most of the _vod’e_ were leaning on the table gasping for breath from all the giggling. Jango had one elbow on the table and his face cradled in his hand as he cycled between laughing and groaning in despair. 

Kriff, Jaster wanted holos of all of this. Hopefully someone was recording. Maybe some of Wen’s _vod’e_.

Finally, Wen glanced over at who he was commiserating with, and then did lightning quick double take. 

Sifo-Dyas smiled at him, wide and innocent. He was still leaning on Wen’s shoulder, and he brought up the other hand to waggle his fingers in a tiny wave. 

“Oh Force, Sy,” Dooku muttered, but he was smirking with barely contained mirth. 

Wen yowled in dismay, loud enough to be heard over the ruckus.

The race was on again, with Wen chasing Sifo-Dyas back around the room in the other direction this time.

They made it around the ring twice. It looked like Wen was chasing him a bit more seriously, though both kept up their comedic persona. Wen was back to making grabby hands and leering, with Sifo-Dyas making _oh no!_ faces. 

Then Sifo-Dyas stopped right in his tracks. Carried by momentum, Wen ran right into him.

Into him, and then _over_ him. In a flash, Wen was on the ground on his back, with one arm locked up in a painful looking hold. From the lack of a wince, it was clear that Sifo-Dyas wasn’t putting any pressure on it yet. 

That actually made Wen grin in triumph. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, while Sifo-Dyas finally broke character and just laughed at him.

Wen tapped out and Sifo-Dyas helped him back up. Cheering sprung up louder than ever when Taan came over to declare Sifo-Dyas the winner. Before the two broke apart, they shook hands Mandalorian style and leaned in to talk to one another.

“The Grunts are never gonna let him or me live this down,” Jango said mournfully.

“What the kark,” Waxer said, gasping for breath. Boil was leaning on Waxer’s side, cry-laughing into his shoulder. Obi-Wan was faring no better. He was all but sprawled across Dooku’s lap, breathless with giggling.

“That was hilarious,” Wooley said. He looked delighted. 

“Master Sifo-Dyas has an unconventional sense of humor,” Dooku said indulgently. 

“Apparently not that unconventional. He and Wen got along well enough.” Jaster snorted, and then winced a bit when that made his face hurt. Helix glared at him.

“I’m actually very pleased and surprised that he allowed himself to be silly like that. He doesn’t, often.” Dooku had a soft smile on his face.

His comment sobered Jaster up. There was something desperately sad about it. Were their lives so…

He didn’t even have the words for whatever a _jetii_ ’s life might be. Restricted? Lonely? 

It didn’t matter. As dubious as Jaster had been about more _jetiise_ visiting, he had to admit that he liked them being here. Their little one was a treasure and the _jetiise_ had seemed happier in the last month than anyone expected them to be. 

He found himself wondering if he wouldn’t be able to convince them to stay. Obi-Wan certainly made his _vod’e_ very happy, and not a single one of them even made mention of going out on combat missions while he was here. That alone was worth a mint.

The eye candy was nice, too. Jaster gave Sifo-Dyas an appreciative look. The _jetii_ had managed to pull off winning the fight in a way that didn’t damage his "underwhelming" opponent too badly, and still gave everyone a good show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested, Sy's staff demo is very loosely inspired by [this video.](https://youtu.be/foaUrqvOTpw) Some liberties are taken, but that will give you a visual. Also, it's an _incredibly_ cool demo.


	5. Chapter 5

\--- POV: Jaster Mereel ---

Even though the ring hadn’t needed to be cleaned after Sifo-Dyas’ bout with Wen, the _jetii_ took a short break to grab a drink from the table. There was some scrambling off to the side of the ring as the waiting _verd’e_ squabbled amongst themselves, likely in an attempt to decide who would be headed into the ring next. 

“That was really silly,” Obi-Wan told Sifo-Dyas the moment he got into range.

“It was a little,” Sifo-Dyas said with an odd smile. 

Dooku offered him a glass of water. “Very entertaining, Master Sifo-Dyas.”

Sifo-Dyas grinned at him.

“Not what I was expecting from the fight,” Jaster said. He was curious what Sifo-Dyas’ reasoning was behind the show. Apparently, the rest of this _ad’ike_ were too because they listened with interest.

Sifo-Dyas shrugged and took a drink. He wiped his mouth with his wrist when he was done. “He wasn’t really interested in fighting.”

That seemed true enough. Wen clearly hadn’t been serious about it. The more surprising part was that Sifo-Dyas had gone along with it.

“Well, I hope you’re ready to have your patience tested again,” Waxer said, looking over to the gathered _verd’e_. One had emerged from the group and was making his way towards the center of the ring. “That _verd_ is from one of the tables that were avidly debating trying to relieve Master Dooku of his pants.”

Jango hid his face in his hands and groaned while Crys and Longshot cackled. 

“Oh Force,” Ben whispered under his breath. He looked like he didn’t know whether to be delighted or horrified. 

Jaster was one hundred percent delighted. At the very least, this would be hilarious.

To his mild surprise, Dooku also looked deeply amused. 

“Have fun, Master Sifo-Dyas,” Dooku said, dry as a desert.

Sifo-Dyas gave Dooku a flat look. “Thanks.”

The _vod’e_ snickered.

“But why do they want his pants?” Obi-Wan asked. “They already have pants. His might not fit them. And he’s still wearing them.”

“What do you feel in the Force?” Dooku asked him. Obi-Wan furrowed his brow. “Do they feel like they are being mean? Does this seem like a trap?”

“Noo…” Obi-Wan said hesitantly. “They feel like they’re excited. Like this is gonna be fun, ‘nd maybe a li’le mean, but not hurtful-mean.”

Sifo-Dyas and Dooku both nodded.

“They’re looking to have some fun in a bit of an inappropriate way,” Sifo-Dyas said. “Part of that is the booze. Alcohol makes it difficult for people to make good judgment calls. Part of it is that I’m a Jedi. I am an unknown, so I’m both interesting and outside of their normal peer structure, and thus safer to poke fun at. Plus, I was being rather silly just now. Maybe they think it's justified given how the last fight went.”

“Come fight me, _jetii_!” The _verd_ in the ring called out with a grin. 

“What are you gonna do, Master Sy?” Obi-Wan asked worriedly. 

Sifo-Dyas winked at him. “I’m going to make sure we all have fun.”

With that ominous statement, he headed back into the ring. 

“Oh, now I _need_ to see what happens next,” Jaster muttered to himself, and shifted forward in his chair to watch more attentively. 

“Five creds says he takes the _verd_ ’s pants first,” Waxer muttered to Crys.

“No deal, _vod_.” Crys shook his head.

“I’ll take that bet,” Longshot added in, pulling five credits of his share out of the communal pile.

They shook on it as Sifo-Dyas and the _verd_ saluted and bowed. 

Jaster didn’t recognize the _verd_. He had _beskar_ on his legs, though, and moved like he knew what he was doing. He sported a couple of scars on his chest and arms; serious battle wounds from the looks of them. His brown hair was tied back in a low, no-nonsense tail, and he was in good shape. Easy on the eyes, too.

“Those _di’kut’e_ somehow bribed their best fighter to do this, didn’t they?” Jango said. For all that he sounded dismayed, he was leaning in to watch just like Jaster. 

“The rest of them were too trashed to even make the attempt,” Waxer said with a rueful shake of his head. 

“They sent their Sober Shooter, then.” Jaster had to admire the tactics. 

“If they make Master Sy sad, I’m gonna steal their speeder keys,” Obi-Wan grumbled. 

“That is a very specific threat, youngling.” Dooku looked down at Obi-Wan with a raised eyebrow.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “The drunk ones aren’t gonna notice, ‘nd the not-drunk one is busy.”

“That’s a good way to start a fight, Cadet,” Cody warned him.

“Please don’t get us kicked out of my favorite eatery, _ad’ika_ ,” Jaster said with a groan. 

Before Obi-Wan could answer, Taan dropped his arm, signaling the start of the fight. 

Rather than attacking right away, the _verd_ took a careful step back and paced warily around Sifo-Dyas. The cautious menace of the action was completely ruined by the shit-eating leer he had on his face. 

Sifo-Dyas moved with him, clearly taking his measure as he did so.

The crowd quieted as they all waited for the action to start.

Another tense moment passed. Then Sifo-Dyas dashed in, but not directly. He moved to the _side_ of the _verd_ , so low to the ground that he was almost crouched. A split second later and another impossibly quick movement and Sifo-Dyas was behind the _verd_ , kicking out at his legs.

“Kriff!” The _verd_ turned, but not fast enough. He hit the floor. Just as quickly, he was up again, jumping back up out of his awkward landing like it was nothing. 

The crowd roared. Jaster could just barely make out Jango cursing in admiration. 

Sifo-Dyas didn’t wait for his opponent to catch his breath. He immediately followed up with a stinging strike to the _verd_ ’s upper arm. The _verd_ barely winced, and shot back with a punch of his own.

The two went back and forth, fast and rough, and Jaster started to wonder if Sifo-Dyas had met his match.

Then Jaster had to blink. It looked like the _jetii_ had sped up. The _verd_ ’s hits started to miss by a hair's breadth, and his blocks were just a touch too slow. But, no. They weren’t moving any faster. Sifo-Dyas was just moving ahead of him, anticipating his moves. 

It was just enough that Jaster had to wonder if Sifo-Dyas was using the Force to do it. Had he never seen the _jetii_ spar with Dooku, the thought would have never occurred to him. 

Probably seeing that he wasn’t gaining ground, the _verd_ broke off and stepped back with a grin. 

“Come on, _jetii_ , don’t be like that,” he fake-whined. “I just want a little attention.” 

Jeers and laughter popped up around the room.

“As charmed as I am, your approach could use some polish,” Sifo-Dyas said with a dry smirk and a raised eyebrow. 

Oh, kriff, this guy was gonna get himself perforated by a _jetii’kad_. Jaster cast a very unobtrusive look towards Dooku, but Dooku just watched on with a predatory sort of amusement. 

“He’s starting to sound like you, General,” Cody said with a snort. 

“ _It’s a valid tactic_ ,” Ben said with some measure of irritation.

The _verd_ waved Sifo-Dyas closer, all while stepping forward himself. He swung towards Sifo-Dyas’ face. No one was surprised by Sifo-Dyas’ block, least of all the _verd_. He used his momentary opening to make a grab for Sifo-Dyas’ belt.

Everyone froze.

There was the _verd_ , with his fingers just dipped into the belt. Sifo-Dyas was still holding off the _verd_ ’s other arm with a block as they both stared at each other, waiting.

Jaster’s breath caught in his throat. He could have heard a pin drop, it was so quiet.

“Really?” Sifo-Dyas raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the _verd_.

“Really.” The _verd_ grinned.

Then he _pulled_ , right on the end of where the belt was tucked into itself. The room erupted with shouts and screams and laughter. 

The belt started to unwind.

And then it kept unwinding. And unwinding.

Ben snickered, just loud enough that Jaster could hear him over the crowd. 

Right. Because _jetiise_ wore layers, and their belts were long wraps of fabric, tied off in some arcane way that appeared simple but had to be convoluted. Jaster hadn’t really investigated the matter himself. 

The _verd_ was about three steps away from Sifo-Dyas when the _jetii_ grabbed his pants with one hand, and the end of his belt with the other, and pulled back. 

Stalemate. 

The _verd_ narrowed his eyes and tugged. Nothing happened. He tugged again, this time hard enough to shift Sifo-Dyas a bare inch. 

Sifo-Dyas shook his head, as if woefully disappointed. Then he tugged back, pulling the _verd_ forward a good foot. 

Jaster hadn’t laughed so hard in ages. His lungs hurt from it and tears burned at the corners of his eyes. 

The harder the _verd_ pulled, the more immovable Sifo-Dyas became. 

Just as the _verd_ gave a particularly hard tug, Sifo-Dyas let go. The belt went flying and the _verd_ stumbled backward, flailing wildly off-balance. As he was wheeling in place, Sifo-Dyas took a quick step into the _verd_ ’s space.

Half a heartbeat later, and Sifo-Dyas had the _verd_ ’s synthleather belt in his hands. By the time the _verd_ realized that he’d lost something, Sifo-Dyas had already buckled himself up and was looking presentable again.

Now the _verd_ was in the unhappy circumstance of having his pants fall down, while holding what amounted to a very long sash in his hands instead of a sensible buckling belt. 

Jaster couldn’t hear the _verd_ over the crowd, but it looked like he was saying something like, “Hey! That’s mine!”

The look of sheer betrayal on his face was lethal. 

Sifo-Dyas just shrugged at him. 

“Trade,” The _verd_ yelled, or appeared to yell. He held out the _jetii_ ’s belt. 

That earned him a very skeptical look. They stared at each other for a moment. The _verd_ waved the belt at him with an unspoken, _come on_.

Without stepping closer, Sifo-Dyas waved his hands, beckoning the _verd_ to throw the belt. Probably wise, in Jaster’s opinion. Getting close seemed to be a bad plan.

The _verd_ tossed one end of the belt over, but held on to the other. When Sifo-Dyas gave it a pointed tug, the _verd_ just gestured at his own belt that was still around Sifo-Dyas’ waist. 

“Oh, no way,” Wooley said, shaking his head. “He’s not gonna give that _di’kut_ another shot to pants him, is he?”

Waxer and Longshot just glared at each other, clearly invested in their bet. 

Sifo-Dyas’ scepticism visibly deepened as he gave the _verd_ a wary sideways glance. He did unbuckle the _verd_ ’s belt, though, and draped it over his forearm.

Then he gave his own belt another tug. 

When the _verd_ didn’t immediately let go, Jaster half expected another tug-of-war to break out. Instead, the _verd_ just waved Sifo-Dyas closer. He wanted the _jetii_ to hand him his belt.

“That won’t end well for him,” Dooku muttered, amused. 

Before Jaster could question him on that statement, Sifo-Dyas' expression went from annoyed to disappointed. Quick as lightning, he spun in place, wrapping his own belt back around his waist with the motion and dragging the surprised _verd_ in at the same time.

That left them chest to chest. 

It _looked_ like Sifo-Dyas had grabbed the _verd_ ’s groin, but that couldn’t be. The _verd_ was wearing a codpiece. He was doubled over in pain, though, his mouth set in a silent scream. Sifo-Dyas turned his hand, shifting their position enough that Jaster was able to get a look at what was going on. 

He’d grabbed the _verd_ in the seam between his armor plates, getting a hard pinch on the soft tissue of the inner thigh. A pinch and a _twist_. 

Jaster winced in sympathy pain, and the crowd _oooooooooooh_ -ed. The _verd_ ’s face grew bright red and his eyes watered. Sifo-Dyas was speaking to him, too quietly for Jaster to hear over the sound of the crowd. The _verd_ nodded his head vigorously.

With another quick turn, Sifo-Dyas spun in place, grabbing the _verd_ ’s hand as he went. 

The angle was bad. Jaster couldn’t see exactly what was going on. A moment later, the _verd_ dropped to the ground, with his arms behind his back, tied together with his own belt. 

He didn’t do more than curl up on his side, clearly still smarting from that pinch to his thigh. 

The crowd laughed and cheered in equal measure as Sifo-Dyas primly retied his own belt, wrapping it around himself and finishing with a knot so quickly that it was clear he’d done it a million times. He stooped to pick up his dropped handkerchief, which had fallen to the floor at some point during the fight. Probably when he’d first lost his belt. 

Taan declared him winner and a couple of Taan’s _vod’e_ helped the downed _verd_ untangle himself.

Another _verd_ stepped up to the ring, but Sifo-Dyas shook his head and waved him off. There were some cries of disappointment, but they were outweighed by the cheers from the crowd. The _jetiise_ had both done a good job of entertaining them.

Privately, Jaster didn’t blame Sifo-Dyas one bit. There was a clear trend of escalation in what his opponents were attempting. Kriff, he didn’t want to see what the next one would try.

“Master Sy! Master Sy!” Obi-Wan bounced in place and reached for Sifo-Dyas as he walked back around towards his seat.

“Let me get my tunics on first, little one,” Sifo-Dyas said with a laugh.

“Bacta first,” Helix said firmly. 

Sifo-Dyas hadn’t faired too badly in his fights, but that last one had left him with some marks that would no doubt turn into impressive bruises if left untreated.

“Thank you, Helix.” Sifo-Dyas gave him a grateful smile. 

It didn’t take more than a minute or two for Helix to get Sifo-Dyas properly patched up. 

“You were a-maz-ing.” Obi-Wan nodded fiercely and patted Sifo-Dyas’ shoulder once Helix had stepped away.

“Agreed,” Dooku added with a small smile. “Excellent defense against ridiculousness. I wouldn’t have had the patience for it.”

“You would have cordially introduced their faces to the floor,” Sifo-Dyas said, amused.

Dooku just nodded, as if to say, _obviously_.

“That pinch was nothing to sniff at,” Ben said, nodding to where the _verd_ that Sifo-Dyas had just fought was finally upright again and limping very, very slowly towards his table. 

“He had it coming,” Helix said. “Nothing damaged but his pride.”

Waxer and Longshot were busy quietly arguing among themselves, likely over the outcome of their bet.

“Obi-Wan is right,” Jaster said, pulling his attention back to Sifo-Dyas’ face and not on how he was dressing himself. “Those were good fights. And well done relaxing the house again.”

That was arguably more impressive than his skill with that collapsible staff of his. Despite the attempted poisoning and how it had very nearly caused a shootout, Sifo-Dyas had managed to get everyone laughing and drinking. He'd fought well enough to win some respect and responded well to the _verd’e_ who’d joined him in the ring. The ones who'd wanted a serious fight, had gotten it. Playfulness had been responded to in kind, and disrespect had been addressed and corrected. 

Maybe Jaster shouldn’t have expected any less from a Jedi High Councilor. He was still pleasantly surprised. 

“Thank you, _Mand’alor_ ,” Sifo-Dyas said with a courteous nod. Then he continued to straighten out his various clothing layers. “It was the least I could do to repay you for that excellent show of skill with Master Dooku.”

Something about the wording made Jaster’s eyebrow rise, and his _ad’ike_ perked up a bit.

That kind of implied that he’d found their fight something worthy of a debt. Like he’d enjoyed it as much as Jaster and Dooku had. 

… No, that… That couldn’t be. Because Dooku and Sifo-Dyas were _riduur’e_.

If Sifo-Dyas noticed their response, he ignored it.

Dooku didn’t so much as twitch either, though Jaster got the impression that he was very amused. That was also odd. Dooku was possessive enough that he'd outright threatened them all over their potential treatment of his _riduur_ , even before Sifo-Dyas and Obi-Wan had arrived for their visit. Yet so far this evening, Dooku had mostly seemed proud and pleased by everyone’s appreciation. 

He’d even gone so far as to talk with Jaster about it during Sifo-Dyas’ staff demonstration. Jaster had assumed that it was just Dooku subtly boasting about his _riduur_. 

“That was a very good fight,” Waxer said, glancing back and forth between Jaster and the _jetiise_.

Jaster gave him a knowing look. _Very subtle, ad_. 

“I’m sure the _verd’e_ will be talking about it for ages,” Boil added. 

“I took a holo of it, if you want a copy?” Crys offered, lifting up his wrist comm to show Sifo-Dyas.

Sifo-Dyas looked delighted. “Oh? Why yes, I would enjoy that. Thank you.”

“It was a fun fight --” Jaster absolutely did _not_ think about Dooku’s thighs wrapped around his chest, nor did he think about the feel of muscle between his teeth, “-- but worth rewatching? I don’t know.”

Jaster definitely would be rewatching it. Bless his industrious _ad_ for getting a recording.

Sifo-Dyas nodded at Jaster solemnly. His expression was utterly serious, though there was just the barest hint of a twinkle in his eye. “Oh yes, I think it would be very instructive. For Master Dooku and I, both.” He turned to look at Dooku. “Don’t you find that you learn a great deal when you watch yourself fight?”

Dooku nodded gravely. “Indeed, I do. What better way to notice flaws in technique.”

For the life of him, Jaster could not figure out if they were insinuating something or not. 

Most of his _ad’e_ were watching the discussion like they wanted to order popcorn to go with it. Ben was staring off into the middle of nothing with a slightly pained expression, while Jango was hiding his face in his hands again. 

“Really?” Obi-Wan asked, looking confused. 

“It’s true, youngling.” Dooku finally dragged his attention away from Sifo-Dyas to answer his _ad_. “Why do you think the salles have mirrors in them?”

“So we can watch ourselve-- … oh.” 

Boil choked quietly and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Phrasing.”

Obi-Wan chewed on that bit of information for a minute.

It was a very convenient excuse. Good enough that Jaster had to wonder if there was really innuendo going on here at all. 

“It did leave us both a little worse for wear, though,” Dooku said, somewhat apologetically. “Luckily, I have the Force to lean on, and Master Sifo-Dyas to help me heal.”

Ah, yes, because _jetiise_ had their Force banthashit. 

Sifo-Dyas gave Jaster a considering look, and then raised an eyebrow at Dooku. “We could always lend the _Mand’alor_ a hand.”

Crys, Boil, and Waxer all made strangled sounds and suddenly developed freak coughing fits. Longshot glared at them all while Helix just looked disappointed. 

Jaster glanced back and forth between his _ad’e_ and the _jetiise_. Clearly, the _vod’e_ all thought that this was a proposition of some sort. Jaster wasn’t so sure. 

“An excellent idea,” Ben said suddenly. “I’ll help.”

Now it was Cody’s turn to start coughing. 

Sifo-Dyas gave Ben a look of mild surprise. “That is very kind of you. Neither Master Dooku nor I are experts at Force healing. I'd expected that you would be occupied with your _vod’e_ , instead?” He looked around at bruises and cuts that Cody, Jango, Crys, and Longshot were still sporting. “There are four of them. That’s quite a handful already.”

Waxer and Boil lost it, leaning into each other and giggling like mad. Cody just laid his face on the table and sighed. Jango looked like he’d swallowed a live fish. 

“Are you alright, Cody?” Obi-Wan asked with a mix of concern and confusion.

“Fine, Cadet,” Cody said into the tabletop. 

Helix reached over to pat Cody’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright, Commander.”

Ben looked at them all in annoyance, and ended his visual sweep of the table with a very unimpressed look at Dooku and Sifo-Dyas. 

“I wouldn’t suggest Force healing here,” Ben said.

“Of course not,” Dooku said primly. “It would leave us all too vulnerable.”

“Better to do that back at the palace,” Sifo-Dyas added with a nod.

“You take the _Mand’alor_ back to your rooms and you’re going to start rumors,” Ben said tartly.

Jaster really wasn’t sure how they'd gotten to this point in the conversation, but it was seriously starting to look like his _ad’ika_ was defending his virtue. From two Jedi masters. Who… maybe? Seemed interested in doing something about that?

Jaster found the situation adorable.

“Ahh, rumors. That would be unfortunate,” Sifo-Dyas murmured. 

“Whatever rumors there might be have already run their course after Dooku and I got drunk together, _ad_ ,” Jaster said wryly. 

“Excellent use of liquor, that.” Dooku’s smirk was smug. 

“I’m really confused,” Obi-Wan said plaintively. “What’s wrong with healin’? If it’s bad to do it in the rooms, we could heal you in the speeder?”

“Oh, Obi-Wan, healing isn’t bad,” Sifo-Dyas said, hugging the little one close. “We’re talking about rumors of indiscretion. Relationships. Sometimes people like to gossip about who spends time with whom, and sometimes that gossip isn’t very nice and it can cause trouble, whether or not it’s actually true.”

“Oh.” 

Jaster leaned an elbow on the table and smiled at the _jet’ika_. “Don’t worry, _ad_. Your _buir’e_ and I will figure out how to deal with the rumors.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan sounded a lot happier now. “So are you all gonna be good friends? ‘Nd hang out together? ‘Nd talk ‘nd have tea?”

Kark, but Jaster couldn’t help but think of his _ad’ike_ all speculating on Dooku and Sifo-Dyas ‘having tea’. From the quiet titters and pointed elbows that the _vod’e_ were sharing now, that subject was still up for private discussion during their gossip sessions. 

Kriff. They were going to bet on this, he was sure of it. Jaster didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused. 

“Hmm. Possibly, Obi-Wan,” Sifo-Dyas said. “I’m not sure that the _Mand’alor_ likes tea. We might have to find another drink for him to enjoy.”

Obi-Wan gasped. “But tea is great!”

Cody snorted quietly, but didn’t move to lift his head up off the tabletop.

“I know. But not everyone enjoys it. Different people like different things, and that’s alright. Variety is a good thing.” 

“Master Doo, you could make him your Happy Tea,” Obi-Wan said, looking up at Dooku with a conspiratorial air.

“...Happy tea?” Jaster had to ask. 

“It’s creamy and tastes so great!” Obi-Wan bounced with excitement.

Creamy. Tastes great. 

Kark, Jaster needed to get his head out of the gutter. 

Helix was starting to look a bit worried. Something which Dooku must have caught, because he added, “Obi-Wan is talking about the spiced cream tea that I made you all.”

“Ah. Yeah, that was good. Not really like tea at all,” Helix said, easing back in his chair. 

Before this speeder wreck of a conversation could continue, Wen walked up to the table. He was fully dressed in his _beskar’gam_ again, and had his _buy’ce_ tucked under one arm.

The _vod’e_ tensed a little at the quick approach. 

“Hey, _jetii_!” He waved at them all, and then tapped a quick salute to Jaster and Jango. “ _Mand’alor_. _Jan’ika_.”

Jango just groaned. 

“Don’t call me that, Wen,” Jango bitched. 

“But you’re so cute!” Wen made pinchy fingers at Jango’s cheeks, even if he was still several seats away.

“You’re gonna pay for that.” Jango glowered at him.

“Worth it.” Wen grinned. 

“Can we watch?” Wooley asked.

Wen shrugged. “Sure. We’ll make it a party. If I have to get my ass kicked, I might as well do it in a group.”

Jango cracked his knuckles ominously, clearly already planning payback for his loss of dignity. 

Sifo-Dyas smiled broadly. “So your name is Wen? I thought you said that it was _cyare_.”

The _vod’e_ all sputtered and started sniggering while Jango just _groaned_. Jaster barked out a laugh.

Dooku raised his eyebrow at them. “Dare I ask?”

“It means ‘beloved’,” Jaster said as he attempted to keep his mirth under control. Wen just looked unrepentant. 

Dooku turned his unimpressed look towards Wen.

“Beloved, huh?” Sifo-Dyas asked, smirking.

“ _Jetii_ , you can call me _cyare_ any time you want.” Wen waggled his eyebrows.

Sifo-Dyas snorted in amusement and rolled his eyes, while Ben pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll let the rest of the Grunts know that’s your new preferred moniker,” Jango said with a glare.

Wen shrugged. “That suits me, _Jan’ika_.”

Jango growled and started to get up from his seat. Jaster put a hand on his shoulder to forestall the inevitable fallout. 

“No fighting at _Buir_ Az’okk’s, unless it's in the ring,” Jaster said firmly. He was almost, _almost_ , able to keep the smirk off of his face.

Wen gave Jango a shit eating grin.

“You’re gonna regret this,” Jango warned.

“That’s a problem for future-me.” Wen shrugged. “But teasing you isn’t the reason why I’m here.”

“Oh?” Jaster was more than a little curious.

Wen fished a napkin out of his belt pouch with an elaborate flourish, and then presented it to Sifo-Dyas with a goofy looking fake bow. “My comm frequency, _jetii_. In case you ever want to get together for a drink.”

Kriff, Jaster had to admire the man’s balls. 

Waxer and Crys just sat there, gaping at Wen. 

“Damn, _ori’vod_ , your Grunts are _mandokar’la_ in spades,” Helix said with raised eyebrows.

“Thank you.” Sifo-Dyas took the napkin with a warm smile. “But I insist that you call me Sifo-Dyas instead of _jetii_. Otherwise you might include Master Dooku in whatever you offer as well.” He cast an inquiring look to Dooku. “Though he may join me, regardless. We are dear friends.”

Crys slammed both hands over his mouth, clearly in an attempt to not burst out laughing.

“Wen. Wen, I am going to murder you in your sleep,” Jango said quietly. 

Wen utterly ignored his superior officer and cast an appreciative look at Dooku. “Oh ho, is that so. Well, you are vaguely terrifying, but I suppose I can see the appeal.”

“Your kind words flatter me so,” Dooku said with very little inflection, his expression as dry as a grave. He turned to look at Sifo-Dyas and said, “Am I truly only _vaguely_ terrifying?”

Obi-Wan giggled from his perch on Dooku’s lap. “Don’t worry, Master Doo. You’re super real scary when you wan’ to be.” He patted Dooku’s arm.

“Ah, I am reassured,” Dooku said flatly.

Boil had joined Crys in barely holding back snickers.

“He’s really not joking,” Cody said to Wen seriously, indicating Obi-Wan with a tilt of his head.

Wen’s shit eating grin softened into something warmer. “Yeah, I think we all caught that, _ad’ika_ , but I thank you for the warning.” He turned his attention to the _jetiise_. “Truly, I don’t mean any offence, or anything untoward. Tonight was just fun. If you ever want to catch a cup of caff or need something shot, hit me up.”

“I am generally capable of shooting and stabbing my way out of whatever situation arises, but that’s a very kind offer.” Sifo-Dyas nodded towards Wen in what looked like a very tiny bow. Then he smiled. “The fight was quite entertaining. It was a pleasure to meet you.” He paused just long enough to smirk. “ _Cyare_ Wen.”

Wen let out a short laugh. “ _Ret'urcye mhi_ , Sifo-Dyas. _Mand’alor_.”

He tapped his chest plate in salute and then made his way back to a group of Grunts who were all waiting for him at the bar. 

The moment Wen was out of earshot, Dooku gave Sifo-Dyas an amused look. 

“What?” Sifo-Dyas asked in an overly innocent way, as if he already knew what Dooku was thinking.

Dooku’s smirk turned into a slow smile. “Ahhh, the look on Master Lene's face when I tell her that you got into a pit fight _and_ had a Mandalorian warrior make a pass at you.”

“I blame you. You are a terrible influence.” Sifo-Dyas shook his head in mock disappointment.

Obi-Wan kept on giggling, and half of the _vod’e_ were snickering along with him.

“You’re going to tell his _buir_?” Jaster asked, amused. 

“A terrifying prospect for any Jedi,” Ben said solemnly. There was a hint of a crinkle around his eyes.

“Worse than telling the High Council?” Helix asked.

“I’ll have you know that no one tells the High Council anything,” Ben said with faux offence. 

“Indeed.” Sifo-Dyas nodded along in agreement. 

“Without question,” Dooku added. 

The table fell into chuckles over the sheer irony of those statements. 

While they’d been talking, another fight had started up in the ring. Jaster took a moment to covertly check on all of the _ad’ike_. Ben and his _vod’e_ looked like they were holding up without any strain, but Obi-Wan was sprawled across Dooku’s chest, barely upright. There were little dark circles under his eyes and he wasn’t nearly as bouncy as he’d been earlier. 

Jaster checked his chrono. It was getting a bit late.

“Are you all ready to pack up for the night?” he asked.

“At your leisure, _Mand’alor_ ,” Dooku said easily.

Sifo-Dyas nodded. “The little one can take a nap on my lap if you’d like to stay later.”

“I’m awake!” Obi-Wan said blearily. “I’m not gon’ sleep!”

Cody snorted and Waxer grinned.

“Whenever you want to go, _buir_ ,” Jango said with a shrug. “But it might be better to leave sooner rather than later. The fights start to get a bit rough later on.”

That seemed to spark the interest of the rest of Jaster’s _ad’ike_.

“No more fighting for us tonight, _ad’e_ ,” Jaster warned them with an indulgent smile. “Give my poor heart a break. First, _ad’ike_ going in the ring, and then poisoned knives and stolen belts?” He shook his head. “ _Buir_ Az’okk is gonna think I’m bringing in trouble.”

“Aww, _buir_ ,” Crys started.

“She wouldn’t be wrong,” Helix said with a long-suffering air.

Ben cackled. “She really wouldn't. _Buir_ , remind me to tell you about a bar called 79’s.”

“What was that, Master ‘Base Jumping On Coruscant’?” Cody asked. “I’m not sure anything that a _Vod_ has done will ever net the amount of trouble you gather effortlessly.”

“...The General kind of has a point,” Waxer said.

Boil nodded. “There was the Wolfpack and that time a bunch of them got kidnapped. The locals thought they were venerable spirits who needed to be appeased with marriage.”

“And that time Rex, Fives, and Echo had to panhandle on Ord Mantell for credits to buy a stripper so they could sneak through a casino,” Wooley added.

“They couldn’t get the creds, but they did get some nice shawls, so they dressed themselves up instead,” Longshot said.

Jaster’s shoulders were shaking with laughter that he couldn’t quite hold back.

Helix nodded. “Rex said that they got propositioned more than once trying to make their way through the building. I guess hiring triplets for parties is a thing?”

“Then there was that time with the cursed loth-cats --” Crys started.

“We don’t really need to go into that right now,” Cody said firmly, with a sideways glance towards Obi-Wan.

“Oh, now I really want to hear this story,” Jaster said. “Later is fine.”

“Awww, but loth-cats! Like Blocky!” Obi-Wan pouted.

All of the _vod’e_ and Ben stared off into nothing, as if caught up in the same thought.

“Noooo… Not like Blocky, Cadet,” Waxer said.

“They sure were _friendly_ , though,” Crys snickered quietly.

Alright, if the _verd’ike_ were breaking out with the filthy stories, it was probably time to go.

“Later,” Jaster said again. “I’m gonna go settle up with _Buir_ Az’okk. You all get yourselves put together.”

“Yes, _buir_ ,” they all chorused. 

To Jaster’s relief, the atmosphere around him at the bar was friendly. The _jetiise_ had done a good job of ingratiating themselves, even after that clusterkriff of an assassination attempt. After that, the rest of the night could have easily been ruined. Tense, with everyone walking on eggshells. Sifo-Dyas and Wen had pretty neatly turned the mood around entirely. 

As pissed as Jango was at Wen for all the teasing, maybe Jaster should tell him to go easy on Wen just for the assist. 

Eh. He’d make Jango aware of all the facets of this particular issue and see what solution Jango came up with. 

Jaster made small talk with _Buir_ Az’okk and a couple of the _verd’e_ at the bar while he paid. Before he headed back to the table, _Buir_ Az’okk handed him a small bag.

“For the _ad’ike_ ,” she said with a wink.

Inside were little hard candies in bright colors, all wrapped in clear wrappers.

“Thanks, _Buir_ Az’okk.” He smiled warmly at her.

“Don’t be a stranger, _Mand’alor_.”

By the time he’d made it back to the table, everyone was standing and ready to go, with the exception of Obi-Wan. He was being held by Dooku, who looked like he’d decided the best way to get over his awkwardness was to just ignore that he was carrying a child at all.

“--I sit on your shoulders, Master Doo? Did you ever do that for Master Yoda? He’s real tiny.” Obi-Wan looked up at Dooku as he held on to the front of the _jetii_ ’s robes.

“Occasionally,” Dooku responded. “Though when he is at the Temple, he prefers a hover chair. Or he used to.”

“So c’n I ride on your shoulders? It would be _so high!_ ”

“Maybe another time, Obi-Wan. I already need to duck the windchimes. I would rather you not get tangled up.”

“Awww.”

Jaster managed to catch Crys taking a sneaky holo of the conversation. Probably to use as blackmail against Dooku. Or maybe bribery for Sifo-Dyas. 

He handed the brown bag to Cody. “From _Buir_ Az’okk. They’re to share.”

Cody peeked into the bag with interest and soon the _vod’e_ were distributing the pieces with their usual military precision. Obi-Wan tried to shove his directly into his mouth, wrapper and all, which led Sifo-Dyas to help him untangle the little candy.

Kark. That was really unfairly cute. 

He waved towards the bar one last time and led them all out. Darist and a few of his Headhunters followed along. Normally, he would bitch at the honor guard, but it had been a hell of a night already. One assassination attempt was enough.

On the long walk back to where they’d parked the speeders, Jaster mulled over the evening.

Overall, it had been a good night. He was going to need to talk to Gratis tomorrow about his _di’kut’la_ clanmate. Thank _Manda_ , no one had been killed, or even injured. That would have been a nightmare to deal with. The last thing Jaster needed was the _jetiise_ High Council sending an extraction team, on top of whatever Sifo-Dyas would have done to the bar if his _riduur_ or the _jet'ika_ had been damaged.

Then there was the subject of the _jetiise_. His _ad’ike_ had to be right. They had to be _riduur’e_. The _jet’ika_ had even called Dooku his _buir_ ; unknowingly or not, that type of naming carried weight. 

They were also definitely flirting with him; the more Jaster thought about it, the more he was sure of it. That opened up some interesting possibilities. 

It was a karking shame that Sifo-Dyas and his _ad_ were leaving in a couple of days. As much as he wanted to tumble right into bed with the _jetiise_ , that was something he’d have to consider more thoroughly. First, to work out whether the flirting was serious, and then to think through all of the possible ramifications.

He hadn’t been joking when he’d assured Obi-Wan that he would deal with any potential rumors. Mostly that meant that he would figure out how to make those rumors set them all up in the best possible light.

Which, sadly, meant that he couldn’t think with his dick about this.

Maybe he’d find a nice _verd_ to blow some steam off with in the meantime. Zeiirk would be a good choice for something like that. The two of them had fun together once in a while, and neither one of them wanted something more serious. 

By the time they’d gotten to the speeders, Obi-Wan was mostly asleep. He grumbled at being buckled into his seat. Jaster leaned against the side of the speeder with a wince, himself. Kark, but he was not a kid anymore.

“You know that you’re gonna have to get booster shots as soon as we all get back home, Cadet,” Helix said with a warning look.

Obi-Wan’s cranky, “Aww, Helix,” was nearly lost to Jaster under the swell of pride and pleasure that he felt at Helix calling their rooms at the palace, ‘home’. 

Everyone filed into the two speeders as Helix got Obi-Wan settled in his seat. Habit had Jaster standing outside the speeder until everyone was in place. He gave Darist a nod; she was standing a ways away, leaning against her own speeder. The Headhunters would follow them back to the Palace. 

Maybe then Jaster would get a chance to see if the _jetiise_ were serious about that Force healing offer. Whether it equated to a proposition or not, he wouldn’t say no to skipping out of bacta bandages for the next couple of days.

\--

\--- POV: Yan Dooku ---

Despite his willingness to let Helix get him strapped into the speeder, Obi-Wan was very insistent that Yan sit next to him. 

Yan could sense a thread of worry in the little one’s Force signature. In an older child, one of age to be a padawan, Yan would have given a gentle admonishment and advised the child to be mindful of the present and release negative emotions. 

For a five year old, Yan wasn’t quite sure what to do. They required more reassurance, didn’t they? Sure, he could speak of the Force and letting go of emotion and worry, but would such a small child actually understand? Obi-Wan was quite smart, and he had echoes of Ben’s life rattling around in his head. Perhaps he would see the wisdom of not letting anxiety rule one’s actions.

“Just sit down, Doo,” Sy muttered to him, and nudged him towards the speeder. “Don’t overthink it. He’s little and fears are much larger at that age. It’s alright to offer some comfort.”

Yan hummed to himself.

Then he noticed that Sy was headed towards the other speeder.

Before he could object, Sy gave him a crooked, knowing smile and ducked into the other vehicle. Cody must have caught the exchange; he snorted in amusement and followed Sy’s lead. 

This was just good tactics, Yan reminded himself. They should spread out the Jedi masters between the two speeders in case of attack. Of the two of them, Yan was the better combatant; it made sense for him to go with the most vulnerable member of the group.

“You coming?” Helix asked, poking his head out of the speeder.

“Yes, of course.” Yan shook his head and settled into the seat next to Obi-Wan. 

Helix was on Obi-Wan’s other side. Ben and Waxer sat across from them, their backs to the front seats of the speeder. Boil was up front with Jaster. The rest of the _vod’e_ were with Sy and Jango in the other speeder. 

As soon as he’d sat down, Obi-Wan grabbed Yan’s hand. 

“I’m alright, youngling,” Yan said, awkwardly patting their clasped hands.

That seemed to settle the little one, much to Yan’s relief. 

“Once we’re back at the palace, I’ll make a detour to the palace infirmary to pick up those booster hypos,” Helix said. 

“Take Waxer and Boil with you.” Ben nodded towards Waxer.

Helix didn’t quite salute, but it looked like a close thing. He turned to Yan and said, “We’ll meet up with you at your suite. That way you can start getting the Cadet ready for bed.”

He cast a quick sideways glance towards Obi-Wan, who was already starting to visibly droop. 

“Awww, Helix.” Obi-Wan pouted at him.

“No worming out of this one, Cadet. Not when your health is at stake,” Helix said sternly.

“But I’m fine!”

Waxer, Boil, and Helix all snorted.

Before Obi-Wan could protest further, Yan interrupted him.

“Enough, youngling,” he said, not unkindly. “You were very brave tonight and you did your best to protect those around you, but even though you succeeded, your actions still have consequences.”

Obi-Wan turned his unhappy pout towards Yan, and now it was tinged with a bit of petulant hurt as well.

Kark. This was going to devolve into crying.

Yan marshaled himself. 

Since the pat on the hand had worked earlier, he tried it again. “We are not upset, youngling. You did well. Both Master Sifo-Dyas and I are very proud that you acted in defense of others. You simply must learn to do so at less risk to yourself.”

“But that happens! We’re _Jedi_. We’re suppose’ to take hurts so other p’ple don’t have to.” Obi-Wan looked up at Yan with wide, betrayed eyes, as if he thought that _Yan_ was the one who had things mixed up and now he was trying to tell lies about it.

Yan held back a wince. Helix didn’t restrain himself at all, and Waxer just looked terribly sad and proud at the same time. The front seat of the speeder was very quiet.

Ben didn’t show much of any expression. He just watched with mild curiosity. Yan got the distinct impression that he was being graded on his performance. 

Well, that was nothing new.

“Yes,” Yan said, focusing on the youngling. “We protect others, and sometimes the risks involved with that cannot be avoided. But you are _valuable_ , Obi-Wan Kenobi, and you cannot save others if you foolishly disregard your own safety.”

Ben flinched almost imperceptibly.

Oh, Yan was more than aware by now of Ben’s tendency to disregard his own wellbeing. Not just physically, either. He seemed to ignore his own needs for happiness and care, as well. Those tendences were well hidden, but they came out in how he spoke of his master, in the jokes that he and his _vod’e_ made, and in his relentless drive to see to everyone else's rest and safety before he sought his own.

By now, Yan could feel how he had the undivided attention of everyone in the speeder. Ben and his _vod’e_ were well shielded, so he couldn’t feel anything from them in the Force. Jaster was radiating a sense of _finally_ and _yes!_

Obi-Wan felt more than a bit confused. Yan waited for him to gather his thoughts.

Ben beat Obi-Wan to the punch.

“Jedi are supposed to be selfless,” he said. It wasn’t quite a question.

“That is true,” Yan said, turning to watch Ben. “But a Jedi must also weigh the risks and rewards of their actions, both long term and short term. There are moments where self-sacrifice is necessary, but not _every_ moment requires it. You are a general. You know this. I cannot imagine that your _vod’e_ would follow you so willingly if you did not consider each life under your command very valuable.”

That seemed to strike home. The conflict between the value Ben placed on his own life and that of his soldiers was visible in the wrinkle on his brow and the slight twist of his lips.

“I am a Jedi. My troops are not,” Ben said simply. “I can do things that they cannot, so it is my duty to do them.”

Yan did not sigh, though he wanted to. There were times where he greatly appreciated Master Yoda’s tendency to use his gimer stick to knock a little sense into knights who were being obtuse. The memory of being on the receiving end of a few of those thumps was less than pleasant, but they did get the job done.

“It is not an all or nothing endeavour, young one,” Yan said with a disapproving look. “The health and happiness of those around you do not always come at the cost of your own health and safety.”

“Of course not, but --” Ben started.

“ _Listen_ ,” Yan interrupted him with a wave. “A Jedi who is safe, healthy, and happy will have a far easier time reaching the Light, and then in turn have an easier time spreading that Light to others through word and deed.”

“Jedi live dangerous lives. We cannot afford to put our own comfort above our duty. That is an easy way to Fall,” Ben said stubbornly.

Yan rolled his eyes. “You are missing the point.” He grimaced and looked around the speeder, finally settling his gaze on the ‘sabre at Ben’s belt. “Your lightsabre. You take good care of it, do you not?”

“A Jedi’s lightsabre is his life,” Ben answered simply.

“ _Exactly_. Your lightsabre is your life, so you treat it well. You keep it in good working order. You protect it from unnecessary harm, even as you are ready to sacrifice it if the need arises. Otherwise it might malfunction and leave you without your best weapon and defense at a dangerous time. Or worse, it may violently self-destruct, killing everyone within range.”

The _vod’e_ started at that, and even Jaster turned to glance at him in alarm.

Now it was Ben’s turn to sigh in frustration. “Yes, yes, I see where you are going with this. Of course a Jedi should make sure that they are able to perform their duty.”

“That preservation of self includes physical _and_ mental well-being.” Yan raised an eyebrow at Ben, daring him to deny it.

Ben looked sourly at him.

Yan allowed his countenance to soften a bit, and said, “Our duty always comes first. No matter the pain to ourselves. But that doesn’t mean we are _only_ allowed pain. We can and _should_ value our own wellbeing, if only so that we are able to do our duty in the future, for as many years as possible. What good is it to squander our energy and health shortsightedly, when we must do more than survive the battle which is right in front of us? We must play the long game, and that means allowing some concern for ourselves.”

Helix glanced back and forth between Yan and Ben like he was at a sporting event. Yan only barely noticed the movement. All of his focus was on Ben. This conversation _mattered_. The sooner he could get it through Ben’s skull that he didn’t need to be quite so reckless with his life, the better. 

The silence stretched for a long moment.

When it didn’t look like Ben would respond, Yan added, “Allow yourself the kindness that you grant others, Ben. Jedi are not infallible, nor are we invincible. We need the same things that all other beings in the galaxy do.”

Still no response. Ah, well. It would likely take more than one reminder for Ben to come around.

“At the very least, consider that you and your _vod'e_ are here for a reason. That much is quite clear to me. Do not deny yourself the support you need to accomplish your goals," Yan said, hoping to at least appeal to the strategist in Ben. 

“I don’t,” Ben said stubbornly. 

Helix snorted, which earned him a dark glare from Ben.

“Then you will not mind us reminding you of that fact,” Yan said firmly. “The most precious gift a Jedi can offer is their life. Sometimes that means dying so that others may live -- we are called ‘Knights’ for a reason, after all -- but oftentimes it means _living_ and devoting your life to the Light, influencing a great many people over a very long time. A Jedi is worth more than their willingness to take on hardship. Each life you touch in kindness glows brighter in the great tapestry of the Force. Do not diminish that contribution.”

Something about that sunk home. Ben clenched his fists in his lap and his eyes grew wide and pained. His expression was raw.

Then he packed it all away, though it was clearly an effort. Ben turned to look out the window of the speeder. Clearly, this was an invitation to either change the subject or be silent. Yan chose to respect that unspoken request.

He turned to look at Obi-Wan, to gauge how much of this conversation had sunk in to the little one’s head.

Only to find that Obi-Wan had fallen dead asleep in his harness.

Yan huffed quietly in amusement, and waited out the rest of the speeder ride in silence.

\--

\--- POV: Waxer Mereel ---

He and Helix and Boil had simply stuck around and waited while Master Dooku ever so gingerly worked the Cadet free of his harness and picked him up. The others had wordlessly scooped Kenobi up and formed up around him and behind him, protectively. They'd vanished from sight fairly quickly.

Master Sifo-Dyas watched them go, thoughtfully, as he approached them. "Is something the matter, troopers?" He asked, careful.

Not wanting to upset them further, if there truly was a problem.

Waxer shrugged. "Nothing a little sleep won't fix," he answered, reasonably certain he was right.

The response got him a shrewd assessing look, and then, after a long moment, a nod.

"Come on, then," their _buir_ suggested pointedly. "Let's get the _jet'ika_ taken care of, so that we can follow their example."

"A good idea," Master Sifo-Dyas agreed, and they were off.

The cadet, apparently inclined to sprawl in his sleep, was doing his best to make sure that he had physical contact with as much of Master Dooku as possible. One arm was flung over a broad shoulder, the other wrapped as far around the master's chest as it would go. His head was tucked snugly into the master's neck, and he was out like a light.

Boil shook his head at the sight, amusement and fondness writ large in his eyes, as they followed their _buir_ and the Masters into the palace, rather than linking up with their _vod'e_.

It didn't take them long to get the Cadet the required booster shots -- the youngling barely stirred even when Helix jabbed him, only opening one blue eye long enough to give the medic a watery glare -- and then Master Sifo-Dyas deftly plucked Obi-Wan out of their arms and whisked him off to bed, where he could sleep properly.

Waxer caught his _riduur_ 's eyes, and got a nod in response. It was time they got back to the others.

For all that it had been all of about ten minutes, he could tell by the harshly throttled-down hitches and stutters of emotion in the network that something big was going down. Or about to.

"We're going to retire now," Helix announced, speaking for all three of them. "Good night, Masters, _buir_."

They got the appropriate responses -- though they could tell Master Dooku seemed distracted -- and simply left without standing on any further ceremony.

_General Kenobi needs our support._

The knowledge echoed back and forth between them, underscored by the conversation they'd overheard in the speeder, and reinforced further by the careful way that the General was trying not to let himself feel.

He'd been doing that for the past few minutes, and it was karking obvious that something Dooku had said had upset Kenobi. But what it was and why it had upset their _jetii_... Waxer had no idea.

Maybe they could get Kenobi to tell them.

"I doubt it, _vod_ ," Helix said and gave him a knowing look, even as the thought crossed his mind, and Waxer suspected he'd been fairly transparent. 

"We can try, though," Boil pointed out.

"We can," their medic agreed, "but don't get your hopes up."

When they opened up their suite door and stepped through, carefully closing and locking it behind themselves, what they found made Waxer swallow hard. Their _vod'e_ were clustered around General Kenobi on their sitting room floor, their armour off and making karking sure that they were pressed comfortingly close as their General did his karking best to stifle whatever was upsetting him.

Kenobi was breathing fast and harsh -- he wasn't quite hyperventilating, though he was flirting with it -- and he was clutching at the Commander's armourweave sleeves so tightly that his knuckles were white with the pressure.

Helix, never one to hesitate, swore and started stripping down to his shorts. Waxer shook off his surprise and followed suit, Boil not far behind them.

"What did we miss?" Helix demanded, his voice firm and even.

Kenobi laughed, the sound higher pitched than normal and almost grating. "Oh, nothing much," he answered, still pretending to be unaffected. "Just some uncomfortable thoughts and memories."

Longshot scoffed. "You and your talent for understatement."

Helix simply glared are Longshot, making the _Vod_ wince and shut up, then turned back to Kenobi. "Something you'd like to talk about? Or would you rather just try to meditate on it, as you usually do, General? Check in with me, _Vod_."

The General made an almost pained sound. "Do you know, I've been meaning to ask you about that phrase for a while, _vod'e_."

"Which one, General?" Crys asked him carefully.

"You keep saying it to one another. _Check in with me_."

Was that an attempt to divert them? Waxer eyed Kenobi a bit skeptically as he stepped over and started worming his way into their little tangle of limbs so that he could touch Kenobi, himself. "It's one of our call-and-response checks, sir," he answered. "Explicitly puts both _Vod'e_ on an even footing. No rank, no consequences, everything that's said stays confidential. Originated on Kamino, where we needed a safe way to make sure our _Vod'e_ were getting taken care of."

Helix nodded, as he stepped over and knelt down next to them rather than immediately climbing in, carefully prying one of Kenobi's hands open and offering touch even as he carefully made sure he had his fingers on their General's pulsepoint. "There's a little bit more to it than that, Waxer," their CMO said, correcting him gently, "it also carries secondary meanings. Not just _tell me how you're doing_ but also _let me know how to help_ and _what do you need_?"

The Commander added his own support from where he was plastered against Kenobi's back from neck to knee, wrapped comfortingly around their General and protecting his back. "You're one of us, now, sir, remember? We take care of our own. Whatever you need, you have it. You've been doing the same for us since the first day you took command of the 7th Sky. Let us do the same for you."

Their General shook his head, but they could all tell it wasn't a negation or a denial.

No.

Kenobi couldn't believe they were offering him that kind of sanctuary.

The network was tight with the emotional wash of worry coming from him and from his _vod'e_. Waxer could feel it. Thankfully they were good enough at control, now, to keep the Cadet out of it. But the General, tightly wound as he was, was resisting their attempts to stabilise him.

"I don't know what you're thinking, right now, General, _Vod_ , but I can tell you it's almost certainly wrong," he said pointedly. "You're holding back, trying to keep from burdening us, and ignoring the fact that we're _offering_ to help carry whatever it is."

That sentence got a choked sound out of Kenobi, but it wasn't a denial.

"Check in with me, _Vod_ ," Helix said again, and Waxer could feel the medic reach out to Kenobi in the network. "Tell me -- tell _us_ what you need."

Without hesitation, he mentally flung himself after Helix, trying to shove all his worry and care at their _dinii'la jetii_ General. The others followed suit promptly, wrapping Kenobi up in all the support they could muster on the spot.

Their General's response was knee-jerk. Automatic.

It had to be.

He flinched, a flash of _no-not-worthy-not-good-enough_ escaping the tight leash he was keeping on himself before his shields tightened again, plugging that tiny leak.

"I-- I don't know," he said, stumbling over his words in a way that their Negotiator _never_ did except when he was under a truly ridiculous amount of stress. "I've never... had anyone I could rely on like this. Not really."

Helix's grip on Kenobi's forearm tightened a little, offering comfort and security. "Well, then, the first thing to do is to get yourself centered again. Can you do that, sir? Would you like an assist?"

That got a tiny nod out of Kenobi that wasn't really an answer, but apparently just the suggestion had been enough to help orient their General. It didn't take him long to start calming slightly. Just enough for his breathing to even out most of the way. It was still too fast and shallow, but it was an improvement nonetheless.

It also got Kenobi talking.

"I don't know what I did to deserve the devotion the seven of you offer me," he said quietly, "but I thank the Force for every iota of it. You must know that."

Helix opened his mouth to respond, but Waxer managed to catch his _vod_ 's eyes and shut him up.

As though he hadn't noticed the byplay, Kenobi drew a hitching breath and went on. "I... It's not often that my understanding of my own faith, of my own Order, gets turned on its head quite so thoroughly as it was during that speeder ride. Master Dooku is... his viewpoint and mine differ. On many, _many_ things. Not the least of which is how the Jedi Code ought to be interpreted. Or how attachments should be viewed and dealt with. But this..."

Their General went silent for a minute that felt like it stretched out to last for a month.

"I don't know how to reconcile what he said with what I know. What I thought I knew. I'm... I'm lost, _vod'e_. My grandmaster has worlds more experience than I do, even now, three decades younger than he was at our point in the timeline. He's seen and done more. Gone on more missions. Lived through more conflict and had the chance to learn Master Yoda's wisdom directly."

Wooley dared so speak up. "What did he say? What was so profound that it shook you like this, sir?"

Their General swallowed hard, his eyes squeezing closed for a moment as his expression went tight, and then he carefully forced himself to release his tension again as best he could. When he spoke again his voice was hushed, almost afraid. "He told me the same thing Master Qui-Gon did."

What.

The.

Kriff?

"I'm not sure I understand, sir. Shouldn't that confirm what your master taught you, then?" Wooley followed up, carefully edging around his dislike of Jinn, which they all knew Kenobi didn't share.

That made Kenobi tense up all over again, and the network _twisted_ the way it had when Kenobi had had that flashback on Concordia. Waxer was impressed with Kenobi's sabacc face all over again. If he hadn't felt it happen...

Taking another hitching breath and holding it for a moment before he spoke, Kenobi hesitated.

Picking his words carefully, Waxer realised.

"I know you know I spent some time as a slave," he started, and Waxer had to very carefully fight back the urge to blaster someone to a paste.

"Well, okay, more than once, on separate occasions," Kenobi amended his statement, and Waxer had to force his hands to unclench.

The seven of them waited, all carefully silent.

It took him a few long seconds to continue, and Waxer could tell that their General was fighting for his composure. " _Vod'e_ , it was decades ago, and I'm fine."

"So what does your enslavement have to do with Master Dooku's words?" Boil prompted him gently.

"When I got sent away to Bandomeer, that was the first time I'd encountered the practice that closely," Kenobi told them, sounding more or less like his usual urbane self.

More or less.

Waxer could hear the slight wobble in his voice.

"It was a very unpleasant experience and I really can't recommend it. I was..." Kenobi visibly had to work to shove a few memories back into their relevant boxes and slam the lids. "I was given the standard starter kit," he joked weakly as the network went twisty again all around them.

Waxer would've sworn he could feel a karking collar around his neck, a scrap of now-shared memory coming through despite Kenobi's iron control, and he unsuccessfully fought a shudder. It brought with it a hint of an electronic buzzing sound and the sounds of murmured words he couldn't make out but knew were spoken by his owner.

His voice cracking a little as he spoke, Kenobi went on. "I got sent to work in the mines, and spent the next few weeks there, in the cold and dark, hungry. The collar made sleep near impossible. There were occasionally unofficial pit fights when the overseers got bored. Usually they picked the older _workers_ for those, but sometimes they didn't."

Helix made a quiet outraged sound, and Longshot grabbed for their _vod_ , in an attempt to calm him down.

"I'm not sure how long I spent there. It could have been weeks. Or months. After the first few hours without a chrono or a diurnal cycle, time loses meaning." Kenobi's voice was hoarse. "Eventually, I managed to make a moderately successful attempt to escape and Master Qui-Gon found me. That was when things got even worse."

Kriffing _sith-hells._

Waxer had to bite hard on his tongue to keep from asking how it could _possibly_ get worse. He had a feeling he knew.

The Commander's arms tightened around the General's waist, as though he could shield Kenobi from the memories of what had happened, and Kenobi leaned into the hold.

Crys had buried his face in the crook of his own elbow and Waxer was karking sure the _vod_ was muffling a litany of invective strong enough to make Kenobi blush.

"I get the feeling I _really_ don't want to know," Wooley said slowly, reaching out to put a hand on Kenobi's calf just above the ankle. "But just how could it have gotten _worse_ , General?"

Kenobi smiled, no sign of mirth in the expression, and shrugged. "Master Qui-Gon and I happened to come across Xan-- across the man who'd enslaved me, and in the process of trying to capture him, we ended up trapped in the mines when the ceiling collapsed."

The slip was obvious. Waxer knew all of them had caught it, though none of them mentioned it. If Kenobi wasn't ready to talk about that part, they wouldn't force him to. But...

For kriff's sake.

No wonder Kenobi was always so tense around Jinn's padawan. Waxer had to very carefully breathe through the wash of anger-disgust-horror that thought sent through him. That a _jetii_ could do something like that to their own _aliit_...

No. No _jetii_ would, Waxer realised -- by that point, Xanatos had already Fallen.

 _Dar'jetii_.

The network shivered under the new weight of that piece of intel, a near-audible rumble that Waxer swore he could feel in his bones. If that _mirsh'kyramud_ came anywhere near their General in future, it wouldn't end well.

Kenobi shifted uneasily in Cody's arms, uncomfortable with the way they were reacting to what he was saying, and Waxer forced himself to shove those thoughts into a box for later consideration. One by one, his _vod'e_ followed his example, as best they could, the network coming gradually down off their reaction. They didn't reach 'calm', not quite, but it was close enough.

"General," Waxer said, carefully keeping his own voice as neutral as he knew how, "I would really like to know how in the name of all the little Force gods you manage to find this much trouble without even trying."

Kenobi huffed at him, grateful for the attempt to lighten the mood a little. "I would tell you if I knew. Honestly, _vod_ , it's rather tiring. Believe it or not, though, things only got worse from there for the next couple of years. It took Master Qui-Gon and me ... a while, to really find our stride together. But that's not relevant to this story."

Boil made a derisive sound in the back of his throat but didn't comment on that statement directly. "So what's the rest of the story, then?"

"The rest of the story is that Master Qui-Gon and I had no way back out of the mines. We were trapped with a dead end in front of us and a cave-in behind us. There was no way out."

Except for the karking bomb strapped to his General, Waxer realised with a sense of dawning horror that felt like it opened up a pit deep in his stomach and left him dizzy. Under his hands the General was starting to shake, the stress he had been hiding so karking well until that moment starting to break free of his iron control. That got the Commander to tuck himself even closer and make sure the two of them had as much skin contact as possible.

It helped. A little. Their General calmed enough at the reminder that he was safe to keep talking.

"There was no way out except to use the bomb in the collar that was around my neck," Kenobi choked out, his emotions still doing their best to rise up and strangle his words, and the way he was shaking making his words tremble slightly themselves.

"So you were going to, what, blow yourself up to get Jinn out?" Longshot asked, a bit incredulously.

"Master Qui-Gon wouldn't hear of it," Kenobi answered, and Waxer had to grudgingly give the _besom_ a little bit of credit for that. Until his General added, "But I did try. We didn't have time to waste. The man who'd enslaved me was planning to detonate bombs around the planet, placed in areas that would have resulted in the deaths of a sizable portion of the sentients living there. The clock was ticking, and what is one life, weighed against so many?"

The statement pulled a wounded sound out of the Commander, who was no doubt thinking about Rishi station and the _Vod_ who'd blown himself up along with the station, to save Kamino. _Waxer_ sure was, and he hadn't even been present for that clusterkriff. The Commander's arms tightened around Kenobi, as though their General might disappear. Kenobi simply put one hand over Cody's, and left it there.

In the network, their commander was a ball of stinging confusion, agony, and frustrated fury. If what Kenobi was describing to them hadn't so clearly happened decades before they'd even been conceived, Waxer was sure Cody would have stormed off to level whatever was left of that mine. Hells, he knew himself well enough to know he'd help his Commander in a heartbeat. So would all -- _any_ \-- of his _vod'e_.

But they also _understood_ what Kenobi was saying, in a way that they couldn't deny, and knew they might sometime be called on by fate to do the same.

"Master Qui-Gon insisted, even though it took some time for us to find a way to get my collar back off, so that we could safely use it to make ourselves an exit."

Kark, how close had they come to losing their General how many times?

Waxer couldn't help the wounded sound the thought punched out of him. Kenobi's hand landed on his head, combing through his hair -- Waxer missed having the option to shave it off but this was nice -- as he went on.

"I am a Jedi, _vod'e_ ," their General said quietly, audibly fighting to keep his voice calm and level. "If trading my life will save others, I am prepared to do that. All of you would do the same, for your _Vod'e_ and for the planets we get sent to. All too many of you _have_."

The room was silent for a few seconds.

"So are we finally at the point in this horrifying story where we get to hear what it is that had you questioning your worldview?" Helix asked.

Longshot groaned. "Helix, _vod_ , your bedside manner is terrible."

The medic glared at him and opened his mouth to retort.

Crys shushed them both. "Let the General answer the question."

Kenobi, clearly still struggling to maintain his composure, nodded. "Close enough. There are some other minor events that took place around that time, but they're ancillary. Once we'd prevailed, working together, Master Qui-Gon took me aside and told me that the selflessness I'd shown proved I was worthy of the rank of padawan after all, and that the most precious gift a Jedi can give is their life. Which, given the circumstances in which he said that, very clearly means that taking on the suffering of others and being willing to sacrifice everything for them is what makes a good Knight."

Waxer was fairly sure he could see where this was going. "And just now your master's master used the same words to argue the opposite," he said, his intonation making it less question and more statement.

"More or less," Kenobi agreed, taking another shuddering breath and holding it briefly, his eyes falling shut briefly. "Grandmaster's position is that that sort of act should be a last resort. That giving one's life in the service of others should mean dedicating it to making peoples' lives better rather than ending yours to preserve theirs. The same words, but an entirely different message."

That somehow opened up the floodgates. More words tumbled out of Kenobi, some too fast and others too quiet to really be understood, as his emotions overwhelmed his ability to speak clearly, but the parts that Waxer could make out were _not_ reassuring.

Kenobi was not sure who was right -- should he listen to the man who'd taught him or his grandmaster? -- or whether what Dooku had said could even be trusted -- his grandmaster had Fallen, after all, and was very grey even now, so should he even consider listening? -- and that was only the beginning. Waxer also heard Kenobi ask himself where the line was -- how much of a risk was too much? Was what he had been doing what the Code and the Order even dictated? -- before the torrent of frustration-worry-confusion overwhelmed him and his words cut off.

Concerned, Commander Cody spoke up, finally breaking his silence. "General. _Vod_ , stop thinking for a second and take a breath," he demanded.

When their General tried and failed, Helix hissed a few curses and grabbed for Wooley. "You're the strongest of us in the network. You need to play counterweight," he demanded, getting a short nod from their worried _vod_.

The rest of them rallied behind their medic without needing any further prompting, adding their strength to his as he flung himself at Kenobi in the network. The moment Helix made contact, leaning on their Force bond to get through to their distraught _vod_ , Waxer could feel a lot of what Kenobi had been shielding them from. The sensation was like grabbing a lit arc torch, burning through him and threatening to send him as far off balance as Kenobi was.

 _\--how can I even call myself a Jedi if I've been doing it wrong my whole life what if I broke Anakin that way oh Force I should never have--_

Kark, those words cut at Waxer like vibroknives, making him flinch in a way that the pain of grabbing onto Kenobi hadn't. Their General was spiraling in the worst way, and what he was doing -- verbally flaying himself -- was anything but comforting.

Thankfully, Helix cut Kenobi off firmly, using his hold on Kenobi to slow the spiral. "General. Stop talking -- stop _thinking_ \-- for a moment, and listen to me."

It felt like they were trying to hold back a star cruiser with a five-man shuttle, but Waxer threw himself wholeheartedly into supporting Helix, and felt the others do the same, while Wooley did his best impression of an immovable chunk of bedrock, anchoring them as best he could.

They still weren't entirely successful until Kenobi realised what was happening and started trying to help.

It took what felt like months -- years -- but, ever so gradually, their _jetii_ calmed somewhat.

"That's better," Helix told him once he felt he could let go again. "Now, do me a favour and take advantage of having the Commander plastered to you to follow his breathing. Use his rhythm to even your own out a bit, sir."

To Waxer, Kenobi still felt like a gyro with a wobble in it but he wasn't about to say a word and break whatever spell Helix had woven. He felt like he'd just run about fifteen klicks at a full sprint, and there was no way he had the energy reserves to try something like that again. Worse, he could tell the rest of his _vod'e_ were no better off than he was, including Wooley.

No one spoke until Kenobi was calm again. Or near enough to count, anyway.

His voice as hoarse as Waxer had ever heard it, Kenobi said, "Are you alright, _vod'e_? Kark, I--"

"Shut. _Up._ General," Helix gritted out. "Don't you _dare_ start that kind of emotional spiral right back up again."

Kenobi gulped, apparently deeming that more than a little bit intimidating -- Waxer had to agree -- and followed his medic's orders, for once.

"Here's what we're going to do, sir," Helix went on, after he'd taken a couple of steadying breaths himself. "We're going to go the kriff to bed and sleep, and in the morning you are going to send General _Buir_ a comm, asking him to talk this through with you. If you aren't sure what it means, and your master can't tell you, and you don't entirely trust your grandmaster, then it's time to get an unbiased outside perspective."

Longshot nodded. "Solid plan," he rasped out, sounding about as utterly exhausted as he felt in the network.

Wooley got to his feet and wavered briefly before he found his footing. "We all need to drink some water before we crash," he said, and made his way into their dining area, his feet dragging in his exhaustion.

" _Don't._ " Cody grumbled, as the General went tense and unhappy in the network again. "We're fine. And Helix is right. You should call General _Buir_ ; he'll have good advice. He always does."

With a pained sigh, Kenobi gave in. "True, Master Plo is quite good at that sort of thing."

\--


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up warning, this chapter has smut. I mean, I'd do you all the solid of letting you know where the smut starts and when it ends, but it's really the whole chapter (though, admittedly, it starts with some seduction and negotiation first). ... So. Enjoy! :D

\--- POV: Yan Dooku ---

Yan was mildly surprised that Jaster had stayed after Helix, Waxer, and Boil had left. The younglings were in quite a hurry to get to their suite. Possibly because of the conversation that Yan and Ben had had in the speeder. Even though Ben was very well shielded, Yan could tell that _something_ had left him very off balance. 

Perhaps Yan had given him some solid food for thought. That would only be for the good as far as Yan was concerned.

Jaster stared at the door as it closed behind the swiftly retreating forms of his children.

“Huh,” he said.

Yan nodded absently in agreement. He was at least partially preoccupied by his visual examination of Jaster’s bruised face. The bacta had allowed him to avoid any swelling and none of the bruises looked particularly dangerous. Just uncomfortable. 

A very interesting, very terrible thought occurred to him.

Luckily for him, they were alone. Jango had made his retreat to his rooms shortly after Ben had, grumbling curses about teaching his Grunts some manners. Yan looked forward to hearing about the fallout.

But that was to be tomorrow’s delight. Right now, he had the _Mand’alor_ in his sitting room, with Sy in one of the guest rooms carefully putting Obi-Wan to bed.

“Come. Sit,” Yan said, and gestured towards a chair at the dining table. As tempted as he was to take the seduction a step further and invite Jaster to sit with him somewhere more comfortable, now was not the time for that.

“You gonna do the same thing you did when we got smashed?” Jaster asked as he took his seat. He had one eyebrow quirked up and there was a slight smile on his lips.

“Something similar.” Yan smirked back at him.

He pulled out the chair next to Jaster and shifted it so that they were sitting knee to knee with the table at their side.

“This won’t hurt, but it may feel… odd,” Yan said. He stretched out one hand and gently brushed his thumb across a particularly deep purple mark on Jaster’s cheekbone. The caress was not strictly needed to accomplish what little Force healing that Yan could do. He didn’t think Jaster would mind.

“I can deal with odd,” Jaster said quietly. His eyes had gone half closed. It wasn’t a relaxed look. He reminded Yan more of a hunter laying in wait. The Force around him hummed with his interest coupled with smooth calculation. 

That was one of the things that Yan liked about Jaster. He was very cunning. 

Yan kept up the soft movement of his thumb back and forth over Jaster’s cheek as he let his own eyes fall closed. 

“How fortunate for us all,” Yan said as he carefully fed energy into Jaster’s body, bolstering his innate healing abilities. 

Jaster made a noise low in his throat. “Tingles.”

“Yes,” Yan said with a hint of a smile. 

“Does the contact help with the healing?” 

Ah, clever _Mand’alor_. Yan smiled a bit wider, though he kept his eyes closed and the bulk of his focus on his task. “I require some physical connection. It need not be this. Having contact with the injury does help a bit, especially since you are not a Force user yourself and cannot help me direct the energies to where they need to go.”

They lapsed into silence as Yan worked. 

After a minute or two, Yan brought up his other hand to trace over every mark on Jaster’s face with feather light fingers, though he mostly kept to the fresh bruising. Each touch transferred a tiny bit of Force power. Yan had to move cautiously; he wasn’t a skilled Force healer and he hadn't been lying when he said that the touch would help the healing process. 

It was incidental that he was leaving trails of tingling sensitivity behind with every brush of his fingers. 

When Jaster’s breath hitched just a tiny bit, Yan allowed his touch to ghost over the line of his jaw and the faint scar that crossed his forehead and temple. 

A few more minutes sped by. When Yan opened his eyes, he was pleased to see that Jaster had closed his eyes and was leaning forward. His hand was clenched tight on the table and under the much diminished bruising, he looked flushed.

Yan left his hands on Jaster’s face. “Better?” he asked softly. He pitched his voice to that low, rumbling register that always drove Sy to distraction.

What he got back was a very quiet inarticulate groan. It sent a curl of satisfaction racing up Yan’s spine. 

Jaster cleared his throat and his eyes fluttered open. “Yeah. Yeah. You do this for every injury?” 

There was a hint of challenge in his words. Yan enjoyed it a great deal.

“It does make the process a little more enjoyable,” he admitted. “Although I wouldn’t take such care with myself. Master Sifo-Dyas often helps me, when he can.” 

“Does he?” Jaster gave Yan a very thorough once over, with his gaze lingering on places where Yan could feel the ache of his own bruises.

“Mmm, yes. I’m afraid he has his work cut out for him tonight,” Yan said with mock despondency. “You got in quite a few good hits on my sides, not to mention that bite.”

Oh, Yan very much wanted to mention that bite. From the way muscles in Jaster’s jaw jumped, he was happy for the reminder, too. He immediately looked down, as if he might be able to see the still-sore spot on Yan’s inner thigh.

Jaster smiled with just a hint of teeth. “That was probably a low blow.”

“It was effective, though. I find I don’t mind. Given the situation.” Yan let one hand slide down Jaster’s neck and touch the top of his breastplate. “Should I look to your ribs, as well?”

“Kark,” Jaster breathed out. The curse was followed by a quick laugh and a shake of his head. It wasn’t a refusal; he just seemed to be surprised. He marshalled himself quickly. “Master Sifo-Dyas will be joining us shortly --”

“Yes.” Yan allowed his smile to grow. “He did say he wanted to help.”

“Really.” Jaster gave him a probing look.

“We are very close,” Yan said. “I’m afraid we aren’t very sociable when alone -- we are often too busy with our duties -- but when we are together we share very well, as the need arises.”

He wondered if Jaster would be able to properly read between the lines and understand that Yan wasn’t particularly interested in an affair with just Jaster. He prefered to have Sy there so that they could enjoy themselves together. 

Jaster took a moment to puzzle over this. Yan waited him out, simply sitting and enjoying the feel of Jaster’s skin and stubble against his hand. Others might have been uncomfortable with this casual intimacy, but Yan was supremely confident, not only in himself but in Sy’s response. He knew just how much Sy would enjoy walking in on seeing Jaster leaning into Yan’s touch.

“...You two are… devoted,” Jaster said finally. It wasn’t quite a question.

With that statement, Yan could see where his confusion was. Jaster didn’t want to step where he wasn’t expressly invited, and as Yan and Sy kept their relationship private, it was difficult to see where that line was. 

“We are, as much as our service to the Light allows,” he said. “What I am saying, Jaster, is that Sy is interested and willing to help me heal you tonight. Beyond that…”

He tilted his head in the rueful acknowledgement that their situation was complicated. 

“Ah.” Jaster nodded. Then he smirked. “I can work with that.”

Yan felt more than saw Sy’s approach. Jaster’s attention was on what was in front of him, so he wasn't expecting it when Sy slipped behind him and laid his hands on Jaster’s shoulders.

Jaster startled in place, and pulled out of Yan’s hand to look up at Sy.

“Did I miss the fun?” Sy asked playfully.

Yan smiled at him. “We were just discussing if Jaster wanted help with his ribs.”

“Mmm. I see.” Sy flicked a finger, and a chair scooted up for him to sit in. He kept his hands on Jaster’s shoulders as he sat down, loosely sandwiching the _Mand’alor_ between them. Either Sy had been incredibly quick or Yan had been teasing Jaster for longer than he'd thought, because from the look of it, Sy had taken the time to quickly clean himself up in the ‘fresher. His hair was ever so slightly damp and he had on loose house robes. There was no evidence of the bacta patches from earlier, either. 

“Shall we?” Sy asked. He’d addressed the question to Jaster rather than Yan.

“You’ll have to take off your upper armor,” Yan said. He raised an eyebrow at Jaster, daring the man to test his self control. Jaster’s interest and slowly growing arousal was apparent in the Force, so Yan knew that their offer would be tempting.

“Kriff.” Jaster closed his eyes and shook his head. “This could be a terrible idea,” he added after a moment. “If we start taking off clothes, that would make it too easy to let temptation drive us to something else.”

“Sex tonight is probably a terrible idea,” Yan conceded. If Jaster was going to be forthright, Yan might as well do the same. Mandalorians seemed to appreciate that, anyhow. “But that’s not on the table for tonight.”

“Think of this as preliminary negotiations,” Sy said with an amused smirk. “The situation is too delicate to make any impulsive decisions.”

Jaster nodded, though the movement looked resigned. 

Sy plucked at the edge of Jaster’s chestplate. “Take off your upper armor. I’ll Force heal you while you and Doo talk terms.”

That made Jaster laugh, but it also got him moving. “Never thought I’d hear a _jetii_ sound quite so much like a bounty hunter. You’d do the Headhunters proud.”

As he spoke, he began to deftly strip off his upper armor and undershirt. Yan leaned back to give him some room, while Sy kept his hands draped over the back of Jaster’s chair.

“Thank you.” There was real warmth in Sy’s voice. “I like that about you, _Mand’alor_. You aren’t disturbed by me.”

Jaster snorted. “My threshold for ‘strange’ has drastically changed in the last several months.” He dropped his gear onto the table next to them, taking a moment to settle it properly before leaning back in his seat. 

The bruising down his chest was spectacular. Yan was vaguely surprised that he didn’t have any cracked ribs. Especially on his left side. Their fight had been heated; perhaps Yan should have pulled his blows a bit more than he had.

“Little unfair that I’m halfway stripped off and neither of you is,” Jaster said while giving Yan a significant look.

“Easily remedied,” Yan said. He set his ‘sabres on the table within arms reach and started untying his belt.

“May I touch you, _Mand’alor_?” Sy asked. 

Granted, Sy had already had his hands on Jaster’s shoulders earlier. Skin to skin contact was different, and the placement of that touch was more intimate.

“Only if you'll agree not to call me _Mand’alor_ while we’re doing this,” Jaster said with a smirk over his shoulder.

“Noted.”

So Jaster wasn’t one for power trips in the bedroom. Yan wasn’t surprised. Based on his observations of him interacting with his warriors and with the council, Jaster didn’t seem the type to take pleasure in his power over others. That worked well with both his and Sy’s preferences, too. While that sort of thing was something they’d likely be willing to attempt -- with very specific limitations -- it wasn’t something that either of them really got off on. Yan’s own allusions to Sy’s rank were more a form of covert affection and a pet name than an attempt to invoke some kind of authority.

Yan watched as Sy leaned in and loosely wrapped his arms around Jaster’s shoulders. He let his fingers dance across that very toned expanse of muscle, eliciting a visible shiver from Jaster. Force, but that was a pretty image. Yan filed it away to ruminate on later.

Jaster’s eyes half closed again and that sense of predatory interest returned to his Force presence. A slow smile spread across his face as he eye-kriffed his way down Yan’s chest and all the bruises there.

“That was a good fight,” Jaster said smugly.

“It was,” Yan agreed with a matching look. 

Sy closed his eyes and nuzzled into Jaster’s neck. At the same time, he laid one hand on Jaster’s left side directly over the most bruised part of his ribs. There was a gentle fluctuation in the Force as Sy began easing that damage and coaxing Jaster’s body to heal a bit faster than it normally would.

“Oh,” Jaster breathed out. His eyes lost focus. “That feels...”

“Good?” Sy asked absently.

Jaster grunted in agreement.

Yan leaned back in his chair to enjoy the show. He had to wonder how long Jaster would allow himself to be distracted. 

Not long, apparently. Within a minute, Jaster had pried his eyes open again and was looking at Yan with a fair amount of coherence. “Just so I’m clear here, what exactly are you two interested in doing with me?”

“Sex, eventually,” Yan said simply. “A friendship to go with it would be optimal, but if it’s a choice between those two, we’ll take friendship over sex. It would never go beyond that. Neither of us has the least interest in anything more than an occasional and mutually enjoyable casual arrangement.”

“With others, you mean. Because a blind man could see how committed you two are to each other,” Jaster said dryly.

“We’re close friends.” That was all Yan would admit. That was all they _could_ admit, even to someone so far removed from Coruscant. They couldn’t risk even a whisper of compromised allegiances circulating anywhere. At this point it was such a deeply ingrained habit that Yan hadn’t even thought about phrasing their relationship that way.

“Mmmm.” This time, Jaster sounded more speculative. 

“I’m afraid that it’s a package deal, as well,” Yan continued. Might as well distract Jaster from his thoughts on how dedicated he and Sy were to each other with more immediate thoughts of a threesome. “We’re only really interested in sharing each other if we’re both present to take part.”

That inspired another surge of arousal from Jaster, though he kept it well masked. 

“Not a problem,” Jaster said. “I’m not looking for a spouse, or even someone to court,” he warned.

“And neither are we,” Yan agreed with a smirk.

“Good. And this,” Jaster waved a finger around, indicating the three of them, “wouldn’t net you any favors or pull with me or the locals. You try it, and you’ll get laughed off the planet.”

Yan curled his lip in disgust. “That suggestion is both vile and insulting.”

“I’m just being clear,” Jaster said, unperturbed. 

That was reasonable, Yan supposed. He nodded in acknowledgement, and said, “Likewise, you can expect the same treatment from us. And do not think that the Jedi High Council cares a single whit about their Masters’ personal lives. Contrary to popular belief, Jedi are not required to be celibate.”

Jaster actually snickered. “So I’ve heard from my _ad’ike_. Apparently, they had some questions for you?”

Ah, yes. That deeply amusing conversation about Nautolan anatomy. 

“Their questions make me want to give them a thorough course on galactic biology and reproductive customs,” Sy muttered as he stroked one hand down Jaster’s chest. He was still mostly absorbed in the healing.

Jaster took a careful breath and shook his head once. The gesture clearly had nothing to do with what Sy had said and everything to do with what Sy was doing to him. Tension was slowly ratcheting up in him; his shoulders were held stiffly and the fingers of one of his hands had dug into the seam of his thigh armor. Force healing could feel very good, especially when taken slow, like this.

Yan watched with growing satisfaction. How pretty they were together, with Sy’s hair falling over Jaster’s shoulder and that attractive blush creeping down Jaster’s chest.

“If you want to, feel free,” Jaster said after a moment. “ _Haat Mando’ad’e_ value education. And they are literally asking for it.” He rolled his eyes.

Sy hummed in acknowledgement but didn’t pursue the subject further. Yan knew that Sy would still be thinking about it. One day they would all turn around and discover that Sy had managed to put together a full two-month training course on every possible tangent on the subject. The basics would likely be cribbed from the Temple's standard diplomatic course, with whatever additions Sy felt was necessary added on to it. Yan looked forward to the looks that would net them.

Sy’s hand brushed over one of Jaster’s nipples, causing Jaster to let out another very careful breath.

“So, casual sex only. I like casual,” Jaster said, getting back on topic. 

Yan was having too much fun watching Sy slowly tease the kriff out of Jaster for him to speed the subject along, so it was probably a good thing that Jaster was still able to talk.

“Yes,” Yan agreed. “And nothing that would compromise anyone’s positions. Sy and I both prefer our private lives to be just that: private.”

“I won’t kiss and tell, but there’s not much we can do to avoid gossip,” Jaster admitted reluctantly. “ _Mando’ad’e_ , regardless of faction, aren’t terribly shy about that sort of thing. Who’s kriffing who isn’t really a hush-hush subject, like I know it is on other worlds.” He tilted his head in a half-shrug. “If I try to sneak around about it, it would actually be worse. Then it would look like I had something to hide, or something unpleasant happened.”

“That is part of the reason we’re waiting,” Sy said. “The political situation is still unstable.”

Jaster nodded. “There’s gonna be rumors from tonight, too, you know.”

“We’ll make sure you get to your room unseen,” Yan said with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

Jaster raised an eyebrow at him. “Handy.”

“Very,” Sy whispered. He flicked his tongue out to quickly lick at the shell of Jaster’s ear, causing Jaster to jolt in place.

“Kriff.” Jaster turned his head to eye Sy. 

Sy gave Jaster a slow, wicked smile as he very deliberately trailed his index finger over Jaster’s nipple.

“Tell us what you like and what you don’t like,” Sy said.

“I’m not a complicated man,” Jaster said with some amusement. His eyes grew hooded and he licked his lips. “I think I’d like to pull you onto my lap right now. Not sure I’d be able to stop myself after that, though.”

“Then we’ll all have to practice our restraint.” Sy’s eyes danced with mirth. 

Instead of answering with words, Jaster leaned in those last two inches and claimed Sy’s mouth with a kiss. It was surprisingly gentle, a fact which Yan appreciated. 

It took a moment for them to pull apart. Sy’s eyes had unfocused in a very delightful way and Jaster was sporting a smug smirk.

“Words first, Jaster,” Yan reminded him. He couldn’t keep the pleasure out of his voice, nor did he even try.

“Mmm, right. If we keep to the basics, it seems simple enough?” Jaster said, dragging his gaze towards Yan with some reluctance. 

Yan huffed in amusement. “We are Jedi, which means that we need to be very clear on what you consent to.” Before Jaster’s half-formed skepticism and mild offense could develop into something that would break the mood, Yan added, “Specifically, we need to know if you mind being touched by our Force abilities.”

The furrow that had formed on Jaster’s brow smoothed away as understanding dawned. “I see. What does that entail?”

“Most would be like simple physical contact, except we would be using the Force instead of our hands.” Yan resisted the urge to demonstrate. Jaster hadn’t agreed to it yet.

“Some would be like what I have already done to you with the healing,” Sy added. He ran his hand down Jaster’s chest and dipped one finger into his waistband. From there he followed the line of where Jaster’s armourweave met his skin. There was a slight fluctuation in the Force as he added enough energy to his touch to be noticeable to a non-Force sensitive. 

Jaster’s breath caught in his chest. “Oh,” he whispered. “Not sure why anyone would say no to that.”

Since Yan very distinctly remembered several times where being gifted with the Force was more than enough to lose them the pleasure of taking an additional partner to their bed for the night, he held his peace.

“I am strong enough in the Force that I may accidentally… move things, if I lose myself enough,” Sy added quietly. “It would not be dangerous, and my control is usually very good.”

To Yan’s delight, that made Jaster flash Sy a sharp, bright grin. “Sounds like a challenge to me.”

Yan barked out a short laugh. “Oh, Jaster,” he purred. “I think we will get along just fine.”

Sy shivered and turned to look at Yan with such want that Yan almost abandoned his seat all together. 

“Kriff,” Jaster muttered under his breath. 

“Agreed.” Yan forced himself to stay relaxed in his seat, though he couldn’t keep his eyes away from where Sy was wrapped around Jaster’s very well muscled chest. “You are very lovely, my dear.”

“Me? Or Sifo-Dyas?” Jaster asked with a hint of a smile.

“Both,” Yan said firmly. 

“So do you just like to watch? Or are you interested in joining in?” There wasn’t a hint of judgement in Jaster’s voice. Just curiosity.

“I do like to join in,” Yan allowed. “I don’t find penetration terribly enjoyable, but I am happy to give it.”

“I like it a great deal, though, so whatever suits your fancy, we can accommodate,” Sy added. He’d begun absently trailing his hands across Jaster’s skin again. Yan knew it was as much for Sy’s enjoyment as Jaster’s. Not only were there the pleasing physical considerations, but Jaster’s Force presence was excited and intrigued. There wasn’t a hint of negative emotion about him, and he very clearly appreciated Sy’s affection. Those sensations would be amplified by direct skin contact.

Sy was also a tease. Such a tease. 

“I like both. Both is good. With a mild preference for topping.” Jaster’s voice had gone rough and low.

Yan shifted in his seat and rubbed one hand along his thigh, fingertips just barely touching the mark he knew that Jaster’s bite had to have left.

“I’m going to guess that you don’t mind teeth?” Yan asked playfully. 

Jaster laughed, and rapped his knuckles against the table top. “I like a bit of playful biting. Nothing that will leave scars, and anything that’s visible is gonna get me razzed out the doors by my _verd’e_ , but I like a bit of rough and tumble.”

“I’ll leave that to you and Doo, then,” Sy said, with a quick nip at Jaster’s ear. “I need to be worked up to anything forceful.”

“And no visible marks for us, either,” Yan added.

Jaster nodded, and turned his attention back to Sy. He curled one finger around a loose lock of Sy’s hair and very gently tugged. “So you need to be warmed up, then, eh?”

“I’d appreciate it,” Sy said with dry amusement. 

“If you enjoy watching, we could always show you,” Yan offered. 

Jaster’s attention switched to Yan in a flash. For a solid two heartbeats, Yan thought Jaster might make some kind of a move. His hunger was tangible in the air. Truthfully, Yan wasn’t that far behind him. The difference was that Yan was very used to Sy testing his patience.

“Not sure I’d be able to sit still for that,” Jaster admitted. “Though I’d be game for us to give it a try tonight,” he added with a shark’s smile. 

Pure willpower kept Yan from showing the pleasurable shudder that raced up his spine. 

“An interesting proposal,” Sy said from where he was still half draped across Jaster’s shoulders. Some of his hair had fallen down to tickle at the mostly healed bruises on Jaster’s ribs. “Should we hold you still if you make a move?”

Jaster still had one finger twisted up in that silky mess. “How-- _oh_.” 

Yan’s smile broadened as Jaster obviously remembered that holding a man down with the Force would be child’s play for both of them. 

Sy winked at Yan. That instigator. 

Jaster took a slow, slightly unsteady breath. “That… Alright, I’m not saying no to that forever, but not tonight. Maybe not for a while.”

Yan gave him a courteous bow of his head. Given Jaster’s dangerous profession, it was no surprise that he’d feel some hesitation about being held down. 

“That is no trouble,” Yan said. “And we can revisit the topic any time you like.”

Jaster nodded at him, looking a touch relieved. 

“No recording. Of any kind, at any time,” Sy added.

“Agreed,” Jaster said with a grimace. “The last thing I need is that kind of _osik_ floating around.”

“I thought you said that Mandalorians didn’t much care for who was sleeping with whom?” Yan asked, sensing that there was something deeper to Jaster’s aversion than simple privacy concerns.

“Jango would never, _ever_ let me live it down,” Jaster said grimly. 

Sy laughed.

“I’m serious!” Jaster said, looking at Sy in exasperation. “Kriff, he’d hold that over my head forever, and then the rest of the _verd’e_ would find out, and that would be a nightmare.” 

He groaned and dropped his head back onto Sy’s shoulder. That just made Sy laugh harder. The sight of it made joy curl up, warm and bright, in Yan’s chest.

Yan sent his pleasure towards Sy in the Force, nestled in his happiness at seeing Sy so at ease. Sy’s mind brushed against his and the shielding around them both doubled. 

“Well, since you two had a chance to get your hands all over each other, and now I’ve had my turn at touching, too, perhaps it’s time for us to finally have some fun, Doo.” Sy stood up and made his way around to Yan, moving with a grace that Yan envied.

“Ahh, I didn’t think _jetiise_ were cruel,” Jaster said teasingly. “You two have all the fun while I languish alone?”

“No one said that you couldn’t get off, too,” Sy said as he sat down sideways in Yan’s waiting lap.

Jaster cursed quietly. Yan didn’t pay him much mind. He was too busy paying attention to how he had an armful of his favorite person. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Yan rumbled at him.

Sy shivered in his arms and his fingers dug into Yan’s shoulder.

“Wouldn’t it be more fun to leave them on for a bit?” Sy looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Besides, we’re supposed to be giving Jaster a good show.”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing,” Yan said, amused. A pleased smile curled at his lips and the air was filled with the scent of Sy’s skin and hair. He curled one arm around Sy’s back and brought the other hand up to Sy’s face to pull him into a scorching kiss. For a moment he fancied that he might be able to taste Jaster’s lips on Sy as he did so.

As he licked into Sy’s mouth, he shifted one foot to hook it with Jaster’s. They were already sitting knee to knee anyways, and Yan wanted Jaster to know that he wasn’t being ignored. Rather, he was being catered to. 

There was a sharp snap of surprise from Jaster, followed by the warm glow of pleasure. It was echoed by Sy, who was getting as much of a thrill out of Jaster watching them as Yan was. 

Yan pulled away from the kiss just enough to rub the bristles of his goatee against Sy’s cheek.

Sy laughed breathlessly at the sensation and playfully pulled back. “You’re going to give me beard burn.”

“We can Force heal it later,” Yan said dismissively. 

“Are you sure that’s not improper use of the Force, Master Dooku?” Sy asked mock-sternly.

“Oh, I don’t think we’ve quite gotten to that yet.” Yan grinned at him. He eased up on the rubbing, despite his words. Sy had a very good point; there were other things they could be spending their energy on.

Jaster snorted in amusement. 

“Turn around so that Jaster can properly see you,” Yan said.

Sy immediately obliged by shifting in Yan’s lap until he was settled with his back against Yan’s chest. That very conveniently placed him so he could grind down into the built in cup in Yan’s pants. That particular safety feature was becoming more restrictive by the second. 

They fit very nicely together. Yan was tall enough to comfortably look over Sy’s shoulder despite the fact that Sy was on his lap. The height difference was an advantage at times. So he got a nice eyeful of Jaster shifting in his seat as he visibly struggled to keep himself from leaning forward. 

Yan manhandled Sy carefully, moving him so that his legs were hooked over Yan’s, so when Yan spread his legs it put Sy even more on display. Seated this way, Sy’s arousal became obvious, even with the extra layers that his casual robes provided.

“Pretty, isn’t he?” Yan said in a low, satisfied growl. Sy rewarded him for his efforts by squirming in place. One day Yan might have to see if he could get Sy off with his voice alone. 

Jaster nodded as he watched them with obvious pleasure. He tapped his fingers on the table top absently and let his other hand rest low on his stomach. Yan suspected that he was resisting the urge to touch lower; they’d have to see if they could encourage him to give in. To let himself indulge his need to touch.

A wordless wave of agreement came from Sy as he picked up on Yan’s plan. With it were some flashes of mental images, suggestions of things for Yan to try.

“Excellent idea, my dear High Councilor,” Yan rumbled. He rewarded Sy by nudging open the collar of his robes and sucking a light mark into his shoulder.

“What?” Jaster raised an eyebrow and glanced back and forth between the two of them.

“Jedi are empaths, Jaster,” Sy said. Yan was pleased to note the hint of a hitch in his voice at the end of that statement, corresponding with a light bite that Yan gave him. “Mental communication with feelings, and -- if the target is gifted themselves or open to the ability -- we can share thoughts and images, too. I just offered Doo a little advice.”

“So he can feel what you’re feeling?” The possibilities were clearly starting to formulate in Jaster’s mind.

Yan hummed in agreement. “Both Sy and I are strong in the Force. We could give you a taste of that, too. If you were interested.”

That wasn’t something he frequently offered to their non-Jedi casual partners. It required a fair bit of trust. Jaster had already joined Yan on the battlefield. They’d fought side by side and shed blood together. Yan was already starting to think of Jaster as a good friend. He was hoping to continue that trend and build a positive long-term relationship. That required some trust. Everything they were doing required some trust. Nothing that Yan had seen in the past several months had indicated that Jaster wasn’t worthy of every scrap of it.

“You can do that?” Jaster asked, astonished. 

“It can be very enjoyable,” Sy said smugly. His smirk was evident in his voice.

Yan slipped one of his hands under Sy’s tunic and spread his fingers out across Sy’s stomach. It was perhaps a touch possessive. He relished the ability to hold Sy as close as he wanted to, to run his hands over every inch of skin. Barring this very exceptionally enjoyable long visit, his intimate time with Sy was a rare pleasure, so he put every ounce of that sense of veneration into his movement. As wonderful as this month they'd had together had been, he made a habit of reminding Sy of just how much joy he took in each of their couplings. Simply having an abundance of time to spend together was hardly going to incline him to break that habit.

He was encouraged by a soft, happy sound from Sy, barely audible and all the more delightful for that fact. 

“What should I do next, Jaster?” Yan asked. “Tell me what you’d like to see.”

“Take off his shirt,” Jaster said with little delay. “Untie his pants.”

Sy hurried to help with Yan’s efforts. It only took a moment for his robe to be tossed onto the floor. While he was doing that, Yan let his hands drift down to Sy’s waist, holding him steady. Such a trim, pretty waist. 

“Lean back,” Yan said to Sy, before Sy could start working on his lacing.

“Now it’s your turn to tease me, eh?” Sy said, amused. 

“I’m going to tease you both,” Yan answered.

He slid one hand down Sy’s waistband, cupping Sy’s hard length. That earned him a harsh, tight breath and a shudder from Sy. Music to his ears. Yan stroked down just enough to get his thumb over the crown, and then he rubbed small, soft circles along the edge of the glans, gently pulling the foreskin back and earning himself a tiny whine for his efforts. A tiny bit of liquid pearled at the end, slicking over the ‘sabre calluses on Yan’s hand. He used that to his ruthless advantage, spreading it around to ease the roughness of the movement. As he tormented Sy with one hand, he delicately pulled at the ties of Sy’s pants with the other. 

Sy writhed in Yan’s hold. Not enough to dislodge him. Neither of them wanted that. 

“Feel free to follow suit,” Yan suggested to Jaster. “Show us how much you like what we’re doing.”

“ _Kriff_ ,” Jaster muttered. “I am not coming in my armourweave like a kriffing teenager.”

Yan finally got Sy’s pants loosened up and he celebrated that by giving Sy a few well timed strokes. That made Sy shove one hand over his mouth in the effort to keep himself quiet. It was only mostly successful, and Yan counted each audible whimper as a success. Sy’s body burned against Yan’s, and his pulse raced at his throat. Yan wanted to feel it on his tongue. He licked over that spot, though he kept his eyes on Jaster.

“Karking _hells_.” Jaster let out a low growl and started fumbling with his own pants. “Yeah, alright, that sounds good, I can do that.”

Yan watched with interest to see how Jaster took off the codpiece of his armor, filing away that information for later. A moment later and Jaster had shoved his hand down his now-open pants, groaning with relief as he did so.

“The two of you have been driving me karking crazy all damn night,” Jaster said as he stroked himself off. “It’s kriffing unfair.”

Yan grinned and he could feel Sy follow suit.

“Job well done, then,” Sy purred. 

“Your plans are marvelous, as usual, Sy,” Yan added.

Jaster’s jaw dropped. “You two _planned_ this?”

“Eh, less a plan and more a possibility…” Sy’s words trailed off as Yan slid his hand down to cup Sy’s balls, and then further to nudge close to his rim. “ _Oh_.”

Sy let out a needy little whine and bucked his hips.

Jaster cursed quietly again, while Yan anchored Sy’s hips with his other hand. 

“Do you want to ride my fingers?” Yan asked.

“Yes, do that,” Jaster said with a fast nod. His face was flushed and his eyes had gone dark with desire. The scent of sex and sweat had started to fill up the room. He was still working his cock with one hand as he watched them.

“Pace yourself, Jaster,” Sy said breathlessly. “If you can wait to finish with us, I’ll give you a special reward.”

With that statement came the mental image of what Sy had planned. It made Yan chuckle quietly.

“You’re wicked, my dear Sy,” he said into Sy’s throat.

“Oh, well now I _have_ to wait.” Jaster didn’t sound all that upset about the prospect. 

With a little coordinated movement and a touch of help with the Force, Sy was neatly stripped of the rest of his clothes. Another mental nudge from Sy showed Yan that there was a small bottle of oil in Sy’s pants pocket.

“Ah, the joys of precognition,” Yan said with wry amusement.

“I hardly needed to see the future to know where tonight was headed.” Sy huffed with laughter.

Jaster snorted, but was quickly distracted by the sight of Sy’s bare skin. “You like dirty talk?” he asked. His voice had gone a bit rough.

Sy shivered. It could have been because of the sudden lack of clothes, but Yan suspected it was due to the naked want in Jaster’s voice. Either way, Yan ran his hands all over Sy’s body, rubbing some warmth into him and making Sy squirm happily.

“Yes, but nothing derogatory.” Sy was making a valiant effort to sound as normal as possible, but he was clearly struggling. 

“Sweet talk then, huh?” A slow, hungry smile spread across Jaster’s face. “Gorgeous _verd_ like you deserves a bit of sweet talk. Can’t wait to see how many of his fingers you can fit inside your tight, little body.”

“Please,” Sy whispered, looking at Yan imploringly. His fingers dug into Yan’s arm, stinging and sharp, and Yan did not mind even a little bit. 

“How can I resist when you ask so nicely,” Yan said. Just to keep Sy occupied, he began slowly rolling one nipple back and forth, tugging at it and making it perk up. A quick use of the Force brought the oil bottle to his other hand and poured some out. 

“Handy,” Jaster said, probably to himself. 

Yan was too busy with Sy to bother responding. Especially since there wasn’t a hint of alarm or revulsion in Jaster’s Force presence. Just arousal and happiness. 

He rubbed his fingers together, warming up the oil and getting his hand well coated at the same time. Better to be careful right now, since Sy wasn’t prepared for him yet. 

“You. Clothes. Off,” Sy said roughly. He reached back to pull at Yan’s pants. 

Now that he’d brought Yan’s attention to the matter, his pants _had_ become unbearably uncomfortable. His hands were otherwise occupied, though. His mouth, though. His mouth was free. He decided to put it to good use and licked and nibbled his way across Sy’s neck. 

The Force stirred around them as Sy lost his patience. The lacings of his pants came undone of their own accord, and Yan was lifted up just enough to carefully slide his pants down. That brought him both sweet relief and torment as his achingly hard cock was finally allowed more room, only to rub right up against the cleft of Sy’s ass. He had to grit his teeth to not make some kind of noise at the sensation of hot skin on skin. As much as he very dearly wanted to do something about that situation _immediately_ , Sy needed some attention paid to him first. 

“Thank you, Sy,” Yan mumbled into Sy’s ear.

“Oh, my pleasure, Doo,” Sy answered.

It took a supreme amount of effort, but Yan did not rut up against Sy. Instead, he trailed his oil-slick fingers down behind Sy to circle over his hole. 

Sy squirmed in place and let out a breathy moan.

“That’s right,” Yan said encouragingly. “Why don’t you spread yourself open so that Jaster can see.”

Both Sy and Jaster groaned at that. Sy opened his legs wider, putting his flushed red cock on display and allowing a better view of where Yan’s fingers teased him.

Jaster looked just as wrecked as Sy did, though his hand kept up a slow, measured pace in his pants. 

Stretching Sy out like this was a pleasure that never grew old for Yan. He loved the way Sy always trembled in his arms, no matter how long it had been since their last tryst. They were both very good at staying quiet. Sy still made a sweet, breathy sigh when Yan slowly breached him with a single finger.

“Good?” Yan asked. He already knew the answer. He wanted to hear Sy say it. Jaster’s reaction would be the icing on top.

“ _Yes_.” Sy’s voice was strained and low. His eyes were closed and his head was thrown back, showing off the lovely length of his neck. Yan set his teeth against it but didn’t bite down with any force; he just gently squeezed in time with the way Sy’s body clenched around his finger. That just made Sy twist his head back and forth. Pleasure radiated off of him in waves, made more intense by the fact that they were both very aware of how Jaster was watching with ferocious, single-minded intensity.

Before Sy could get too used to the intrusion, Yan added a second finger into Sy’s eager hole. The wet heat that rhythmically tightened around his two fingers made his cock twitch and drip against Sy’s ass. He knew he could take things a bit quickly at the start; the two of them had been enjoying themselves immensely during this trip. Sy’s body welcomed him without even a twinge of ache in his Force presence. 

_That_ made Yan want to growl and preen. Force, but he couldn’t remember the last time they’d had so much time together. Clearly, they’d put it to good use.

Slowly but surely, he drove his fingers in and out. He likely could have added another right away, but he was teasing Jaster as much as he was teasing Sy.

From the looks of things, he was doing good work. 

Sy’s chest strained as he panted and jerked in place. His skin was just starting to shine with sweat; Yan wanted to lick it off of him. Even better, Sy's cock was dripping. A little trail of moisture was slowly working its way down his shaft. The head was bright red and looked oh-so sensitive. Yan resisted the urge to get a hand on it. There would be time enough for that later. Sy had one hand hooked under his own knee, allowing Yan more access and Jaster a better view, though if he was coherent enough to do that, then Yan needed to step up his game. 

Jaster’s eyes were so dark that they were almost black, and he held his mouth open as he focused on the twitch of Sy’s hips. He held himself tensely, as if at any moment he would be ready to spring up and close the very short distance between them. His legs tangled with Yan’s, and Yan could feel the way that Jaster was slowly pumping his hips into his hand.

“Let me see, Jaster,” Yan said just as he eased another finger into Sy’s ass. The delighted noise that Sy made drowned out any sound that Jaster might have uttered. 

Jaster barely managed to tear his eyes away from where Yan was fingering Sy, and then only for a brief second. His gaze was scorching hot for the short time it lasted; his absolute _want_ echoed in the Force. 

“Pull yourself out and let me see,” Yan prodded him again. “You must be as wet as Sy is by now.”

He could feel Sy’s attention shift to Jaster.

“Please,” Sy begged quietly.

That must have been the last straw. Jaster groaned in frustration and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “You two are gonna kriffing kill me,” he muttered.

Yan grinned.

\--- POV: Jaster Mereel ---

 _Kriff_. 

Jaster had been to professional establishments that hadn’t gotten him this hot under the collar. 

Maybe it was because Jaster knew without a shadow of a doubt that all that muscle was functional, that both Dooku and Sifo-Dyas were karking _dangerous_. Sith-hells, but that put a ridiculously sexy spin on what he was watching. 

The _jetiise_ teasing each other to absolute kriffing distraction was hands down the hottest thing he’d ever seen, and it was happening just an arm’s length away. If they got any closer, Sifo-Dyas would be in _his_ lap, too. 

Right at this moment, Jaster had zero objections to that. 

He wouldn’t go that far, though. Even doing this much was probably unwise. Despite that, Jaster couldn’t bring himself to care. 

It was a damn good thing that Sifo-Dyas had mentioned that he needed to pace himself because if he hadn’t, he would have come already. No question. The bright side of having a few years experience was that he had enough self-control to not do that.

Jaster fumbled with his pants, pulling his cock further out. He was so burning hot that the cool air of the room just felt wonderful on his overheated skin. Kriff, he’d been dripping precome for a while now; his hand was slick with it. That just made it that much more difficult to not speed things along. 

“Good,” Dooku rumbled at him with a dark, wicked grin. 

He put a fourth finger into Sifo-Dyas, stretching the lithe _jetii_ out so sweetly and making him tremble in a delightful way. 

“Watch how Jaster pleasures himself,” Dooku said quietly into Sifo-Dyas’ ear. His eyes were on Jaster, dark and hungry.

Maybe they were already doing their Force _osik_ , because their attention and appreciation was a near tangible thing. It made Jaster’s skin prickle and his heart race. 

He licked his lips absently as he watched Dooku’s slick fingers disappear into Sifo-Dyas’ hole. Up and down, until it became clear that Sifo-Dyas was rocking himself onto the fingers inside of him. He really was riding Dooku’s hand. Jaster almost couldn’t damn believe it. Soft, wet little sounds filled the tense quiet of the room, accompanied by the Sifo-Dyas’ sharp breaths and choked off moans. 

Kark. Sifo-Dyas looked ready to be plowed. Wanton and aroused, he eyed Jaster’s cock like he wanted to choke on it.

_Not doing that tonight, not doing that tonight, not doing that tonight…_

Jaster sped up his hand a little entirely without meaning to. 

Time was measured in Dooku’s low murmurs in Sifo-Dyas’ ear and the steady way that Sifo-Dyas kriffed himself on Dooku’s fingers. It was awful, wonderful torture. Pleasure coiled in Jaster’s gut and his whole body was tense with the need to hold out and wait for his partners.

Despite how Dooku held Sifo-Dyas steady with one large hand on his hip, Sifo-Dyas still ended up resting one arm on the table. His head bowed forward and his hair spilled onto the tabletop. Some invisible breeze gathered it up and pushed it further out of the way while Dooku peppered kisses down Sifo-Dyas’ spine.

“Please, Doo.” Sifo-Dyas’ lips were berry red and wet. Jaster wanted to kiss and bite at them.

Sifo-Dyas let out a sharp exhale, and then both of Dooku’s hands were at Sifo-Dyas’ waist, lifting him up and then settling him down on Dooku’s eagerly waiting cock.

Jaster hadn’t really been able to get a good look at Dooku yet, but now that he could see everything clearly, he had to stop moving entirely just to keep himself under control. Dooku wasn’t the tallest baseline human that Jaster had ever met, but he was close to it. Kark, but he even made Jaster feel a bit delicate and he wasn’t tiny by any means. 

So Jaster was more than pleased to see that Dooku was proportionally sized everywhere. 

Even with being stretched by four fingers, it was obvious that taking Dooku’s cock was still a task. Sifo-Dyas’ mouth was thrown open in a silent shout and his eyes had closed. His chest heaved as Dooku eased him down one slow inch at a time.

Halfway down, Dooku lifted Sifo-Dyas up until his cock sprung free. The visual made Jaster’s mouth water and moan catch in his throat. Dooku had enough strength to casually lift his partner up to kriff him as quickly or as slowly as he wanted. _Ka’ra_ , that was hot.

“Oh, you tease,” Sifo-Dyas said in a raspy groan. “Force, Doo, kriffing _kriff me_.”

“As you wish, my dear High Councilor,” Dooku said in a low, grumbling voice. Sifo-Dyas squirmed in pleasure at the sound of it.

Then Sifo-Dyas was back to holding his mouth shut with one hand, because Dooku had pressed him back down onto his cock. The movement felt both terribly slow and shockingly quick, given Dooku’s size. 

When he bottomed out, Sifo-Dyas’ cock gave a twitch and another thick bead of fluid dripped down its length. 

Jaster started stroking himself again. He couldn’t stop himself. He needed that sensation like he needed air.

“ _Oh_ ,” Sifo-Dyas said very quietly. That barely-there exclamation was filled with so much lust that it made Jaster growl with want.

That sound must have reminded the _jetiise_ that he was there watching; both of them snapped their eyes to him.

“Why don’t you give Jaster his reward for being so patient, my dear Sy?” Dooku’s smile was positively filthy.

Sifo-Dyas nodded. His face was flushed and his eyes glassy. He braced himself with his arm on the table and leaned forward to pick up Jaster’s hand, the one that had been resting on the table top. Through a sheer force of will, Jaster let his fingers uncurl and he allowed Sifo-Dyas to manipulate him as he pleased.

He had no idea what Sifo-Dyas’ plan was. Half-formed thoughts of finally being able to _touch_ what he’d been watching flitted through his head faster than he could really pay attention to them. 

None of those images prepared him for how Sifo-Dyas carefully folded Jaster’s pinky and ring fingers down, and then sucked his index and middle fingers into his mouth.

The moment that warm, wet heat started suckling at Jaster’s hand, Dooku started moving. He lifted Sifo-Dyas up off of his cock and thrust them back together, rocking Sifo-Dyas’ mouth back and forth onto Jaster’s fingers at the same time.

 _Oh, sweet Manda, he’s letting us spitroast him_.

Now Jaster couldn’t help it. He sped up his own hand, pumping his cock in time with Dooku’s thrusts. The soft feel of Sifo-Dyas’ tongue laving over the pads of his fingers made it impossible not to think of that happening to his cock instead. He ached with the need to feel that. His hand would have to do instead.

They were so close together. Sifo-Dyas leaned forward more and braced his other hand on Jaster’s knee. Now Jaster could really feel how Dooku was rocking into Sifo-Dyas. His whole body jolted each time Dooku bottomed out, and there was the soft vibration of Sifo-Dyas’ moans on Jaster’s fingers.

Oh. Oh, kark. Sifo-Dyas was using his fingers as a gag to keep himself quiet. 

Jaster wanted to groan and shove something else down the _jetii_ ’s throat. He did no such thing. Instead, he worked his hand furiously on his cock. The fire in his veins built and built and his skin sang with sensation. The air was filled with body heat and the scent of sweat. Sifo-Dyas’ hair tickled against Jaster's stomach as it was thrown forward with each stroke.

“Kark, your mouth is so good,” Jaster babbled mindlessly. “I wanna stuff you full until you can’t move, until you can’t even walk. Would you like that, pretty _jetii_? I think you would.”

Sifo-Dyas just hummed out a low, needy sound in response. He seemed utterly absorbed with lust, content to let the two of them use him how they liked. 

“So _mesh’la_ ,” he muttered. “Look at you, so hot for the both of us to wear you out. Kriff. You need to be so well-loved that you can’t even stand.”

Jaster thought he might die from how badly he wanted to get off. 

“Come on, Jaster,” Dooku growled. He was watching over Sifo-Dyas’ shoulder. The red blush on his cheeks only highlighted the purple of the marks that _Jaster_ had left on him. That thought sent a streak of possessive lust roaring inside of him. “Come for us.”

Sifo-Dyas sucked even harder on Jaster’s fingers and gave his knee a tight squeeze right at the seams of the _beskar_ plates, encouraging him on.

Pleasure ripped through him, and then Jaster was coming in thick stripes all over his hand and his stomach. He kept working his cock through it, hazy with pleasure. His mind felt like taffy and his body hummed with heat and contentment.

No sooner had he stopped coming than Sifo-Dyas pulled Jaster’s hand away from his mouth. Jaster almost protested.

Then Sifo-Dyas picked up Jaster’s other hand and started licking the come off of it.

 _Kriff_. Nope. Jaster was wrong. _That_ was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. His softening cock twitched with appreciation as Sifo-Dyas’ soft, clever tongue cleaned his hand up. It was an uncoordinated effort even with Sifo-Dyas’ supporting hand on Jaster’s knee, since Dooku was still railing Sifo-Dyas for all he was worth. 

Ah, sweet _Manda_. Dooku had said that Sifo-Dyas needed to be worked up to anything rough. Clearly, they’d hit that point. Sifo-Dyas had to let go of Jaster’s hand to hold onto the table as well, just to withstand what Dooku was doing to him.

Since the _jetti_ had started it, Jaster wiped up the rest of his come off of his stomach and fed it to Sifo-Dyas. Every scrap was eagerly licked up, though some smeared across Sifo-Dyas’ face. And, _kriff_ , that was a beautiful sight. 

Sifo-Dyas stiffened and let out a long, low moan. While Jaster had been distracted, Dooku had gotten his hand on Sifo-Dyas’ pretty cock and had started jacking him off. Come spilled out onto his fingers, caught in Dooku’s hand before it could dirty up Jaster’s legs or the floor.

That lasted a satisfying length of time, with Sifo-Dyas squirming in ecstasy as his pleasure crested. Then he slumped forward, arms trembling. 

Jaster cupped Sifo-Dyas’ face in his hands and whispered to him as Dooku finished, “There you are, _mesh’la_. That was good, so good. You took us both so well.”

Sifo-Dyas leaned into his hands as Dooku gave a few last shuddering thrusts. He wrapped his arm around Sifo-Dyas’ waist and let out a low moan that went straight to Jaster’s groin. Kark, he was not a twenty-something young man any more, but his body didn’t seem to have gotten the memo about that. It hadn’t been more than a few minutes since he’d come and already he was debating the merits of a second orgasm.

“Mmmphh,” Sifo-Dyas muttered and then licked his lips. His eyes were half closed and dark with bliss. Jaster brushed his thumb against them and was rewarded with a tiny kiss right on the pad of his thumb.

Dooku kissed along Sifo-Dyas’ shoulder.

“Kark, why are we not tumbling straight into bed for round two?” Sifo-Dyas groaned quietly as he slowly sat up.

Dooku lifted him up, pulling himself out of Sifo-Dyas’ now very wet hole, and then settled him back on his lap. Sifo-Dyas curled up in Dooku’s arms, looking comfortable, sated, and strikingly lovely. 

“It isn’t wise,” Dooku said. “Not yet, anyways.” He sounded regretful.

Jaster nodded and let his head fall back so that he could stare at the ceiling. Dooku was right. They really shouldn’t fall into bed. One of the _Haat Mando’ad’e_ had attacked the _jetii_ tonight, which was more than enough warning that not all of Jaster’s people were as sanguine about the _jetiise_ being on Mandalore as Jaster was. He didn’t want to deal with rumors that he was kriffing his way into martial allies, nor did Dooku need those kinds of stories plaguing his time here. An extra hour chatting with Dooku and Sifo-Dyas could be explained away, especially with the work they did healing him. Staying the night with them wouldn’t be so plausible.

“Next time the three of us meet up,” Jaster promised them and himself. Sifo-Dyas and Obi-Wan were leaving in a couple of days. Who knew when the next time they would all meet? 

Well, if the _jetii_ and his _jet’ika_ took too long to visit, Jaster could always organize a trip to Coruscant. He hated that planet, but he’d have business there soon enough. He had plans for the Mandalore sector and they would eventually require him dealing with the Republic Senate. 

“Mmm, this was good,” Sifo-Dyas said. His voice sounded a little stronger, though he hadn’t moved from his sleepy sprawl in Dooku’s lap. One of his legs was draped over Jaster’s, whose feet were still hooked together with Yan's. 

“More than good, Sifo-Dyas,” Jaster said with a smile. He should probably tuck himself back in and straighten his pants. He’d get to it later. Neither Dooku nor Sifo-Dyas seemed unhappy with their mutual state of undress, so he wasn’t worried about it.

“Agreed,” Dooku rumbled.

“I think you can probably call me Sy now if you like,” Sifo-Dyas -- Sy, said with an audible smirk. “Though I prefer to keep it for private or personal situations.”

Jaster looked up at him with mild surprise. “So that’s a personal nickname and not just what the little one and Dooku call you?”

“Doo has called me that since we were children in the creches,” Sy explained.

“And you may call me Yan,” Dooku added. 

Jaster nodded to them both. It felt like a very intimate thing; he wanted to be respectful of it. What name a person answered to meant a lot. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

A little smile tugged at Jaster’s lips. He squirmed in his chair, settling into a slightly more comfortable position. 

“Round two, huh?” he finally asked. “I shouldn’t stay, but are you two really gonna have another go of it?” Jaster remembered all the _vod’e_ gossiping about the _jetiise_ and their speculations about ‘how much’ and ‘how long’.

“Oh yes, my dear Jaster,” Yan said with a rather smug looking smirk. “We’ll be lucky to get any sleep tonight.”

Sy huffed in amusement and pulled Yan’s hand tighter around his waist. “We’ll be _lucky_ not to.”

Jaster snorted and shook his head. 

He surprised himself with the realization that he didn’t really want to leave. 

Hard on the heels of that was the worry that what they’d done already might affect his and Yan’s working relationship. Jaster really wasn’t the romantic type. He had no interest in settling down with anyone and preferred to keep his trysts as occasional fun activities between friends and one night stands.

It shouldn’t be an issue. That was what both Sy and Yan had said. Experience told Jaster that he would have to wait and see. That alone was a good reason to get dressed and get back to his room rather than sticking around for the rest of the night.

Though he was very comfortable. The chair wasn’t that great. A couch would be better. Or a bed. 

_Not going there tonight,_ Jaster thought. Kark, but Jango was gonna make so much fun of him. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Credit for your thoughts?” Yan asked.

Jaster shrugged. “I should get going, but this is too damn nice.”

That seemed to settle something in Sy. The _jetii_ uncurled a little and draped himself a little more over Jaster’s legs, while leaning back into Yan’s chest. 

It suddenly struck Jaster that Sy and Yan probably had similar concerns, especially about Jaster’s post-sex reaction. Sy in particular was on the shy side, careful about with whom he showed his unguarded self to. 

Jaster smiled warmly at them both and rested a hand on Sy’s knee. Both of the _jetiise_ looked debauched. Yan’s short hair was mussed and wet with sweat. Sy was naked and gleaming, with only a few light bruises from the fights decorating his body. The come smeared on his soft cock and stomach made him look both sweetly vulnerable and devastatingly attractive. All of that beauty was framed by Yan’s strong arms and large, capable hands. Jaster knew damn well that he looked good in his _beskar’gam_ , and just as good when he was half-dressed in it. Maybe he wasn’t a _pretty_ man, but he knew he had some allure. From the way that both Yan and Sy were eyeing him, they agreed.

“How did you intend to get me back to my room without any word of it getting out?” Jaster asked, suddenly realizing that they never did tell him how they were planning to do that.

“I’ll take you and make sure that we go unnoticed,” Sy said with a dismissive wave. “As long as we avoid recording devices, we should be alright.”

Well, that was handy. And good to know about, too. Jaster wondered if Ben could do that, too.

Yan stroked a hand up Sy’s side and laid a soft kiss on Sy’s lips.

“You should go escort him, while I still have enough self control to let you go,” Yan said, looking into Sy’s eyes. 

Maybe they were sharing thoughts or something, because Sy’s breath came out in a shuddering gasp and his eyes lit up with hunger and delight. 

They kissed again, this time deeper. Yan’s hand slid down to take hold of Sy’s ass and he pulled, just a little, showing off how come was starting to slowly leak down Sy’s skin and onto Yan’s leg.

Another shot of lust sparked in Jaster’s stomach. He wanted to spread Sy open and lick him clean. Or maybe watch Yan do it. Maybe get a repeat performance of all those lusty little sounds that Sy had made when he was going out of his mind.

“That’s just not fair,” Jaster muttered, eyes glued to where Yan’s hand was sneaking closer and closer to someplace interesting. 

Sy pulled out of the kiss. “We can finish this later.”

“Yes.” Yan sounded amused and resigned at the same time. 

Then Sy slid out of Yan’s lap and gathered up his fallen clothes. In a moment, he was dressed again. He wiped his face with his sleeve and straightened his hair out, and then looked at Jaster with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re gonna walk through the halls like that?” Jaster asked, a little astonished. Not that Sy looked bad; he was presentable, if a bit mussed. 

But every single step of the way, Jaster would know that Sy was dripping with Yan’s come, well-kriffed and smelling of sex. That the little sheen on Sy’s cheek was _Jaster’s_ come. The thought of it was intolerably sexy, and Jaster absolutely expected that he would be jerking off again once he was alone in his rooms.

“Normally, I wouldn’t,” Sy admitted. “I dislike this sort of public spectacle. But your rooms are close and we shouldn’t see anyone on our way there.”

Jaster thought for a moment about the security measures he had in the _Mand’alor_ ’s wing and this area, which was set aside for friends, relatives, and esteemed guests. There shouldn’t be any holocams along the way, and he knew where the guards were posted. 

“We’ll probably run into some guards,” he warned.

“They won’t see us,” Sy said with a shrug.

Jaster didn’t like what that implied, but it was Force _osik_. He’d ask Ben about it later. 

“You should take your ‘sabre,” Yan said; he’d already started setting his pants to rights.

“Good idea,” Jaster said. They’d had too many attacks on the palace in the last several months for him to feel comfortable with any of them walking around unarmed. He decided to follow suit and stood up to start getting dressed. 

Before he could do more than just pull up his pants a bit, Yan stepped close and ran a hand up Jaster stomach. Right over where he’d spilled his release onto his skin. It had been mostly wiped up, but there was probably a little bit still drying there.

Yan held Jaster’s gaze with his own, dark and intense, as he moved his callused fingers over the muscles of Jaster’s abs. Then he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked.

“Next time, I hope to have as much fun with you as Sy did,” Yan said quietly.

It made Jaster want to growl with satisfaction at the challenge. He bared his teeth in a sharp smile. 

“Next time, I’ll fight you for the pleasure,” Jaster shot back. He liked a strong partner -- both Sy and Yan qualified for that. He definitely liked being athletic in bed.

“Actual fight or just roughhousing?” Yan asked, intrigued.

“Roughhousing, though I won’t say no if you want to spar again.”

“Spar first, and then we head back to a room,” Sy said firmly. He sounded very on board with that idea, which was surprising. 

Jaster laughed and turned to look at him. “I thought you said you needed to be worked up to get to something rough?”

“I really like watching Doo fight. He’s gorgeous. I have fun sparring as well. I just don’t like that kind of play in bed. In the salle is fine,” Sy answered, unperturbed. 

“So tonight at _Buir_ Az’okk’s?” Jaster raised an eyebrow.

“Was torture,” Sy confirmed with a nod. “My dear knight does like to tease me.” He cast a knowing smirk at Yan, who looked totally unrepentant. 

“All in good fun,” Yan answered evenly. He stepped away to give Jaster some room to get his clothes and armor in order.

It didn’t take more than a minute or two. Yan and Sy spent that time making out like horny teenagers, and Jaster absolutely did _not_ think about how Yan was licking along Sy’s jaw, right where Jaster spread his come on Sy’s skin. Licking him clean.

 _Kriff_.

“I need to get out of here before you two kill me,” Jaster grumbled to himself. The more he saw, the more he wanted to stay and that was just not a good idea. 

“Go on, then,” Yan said with a small, warm smile. “Good night, Jaster. And it was a pleasure having you join us for tonight.”

“The pleasure was mine. Yan.” Jaster found he liked the sound of the _jetii_ ’s name without any honorific. The informality of it pleased him. It was another little sign that the _jetiise_ were people and not emotionless statues. 

He was also pleased to feel that his ribs didn’t even twinge with pain. He still had some impressive looking bruises -- he’d noticed that as he was getting dressed -- but they looked a week or more healed and didn’t bother him unless he pressed on them. 

Jaster and Sy headed out of the suite and towards Jaster’s rooms. 

As they walked, Jaster and Sy moved silently together. Out of pure paranoia and caution, Jaster guided them in a direction that avoided the patrolling guards. They walked right by one pair of stationary guards, timing their movement for when the guards were looking away. No sense in having anything recorded on their HUD’s.

When Jaster got to his rooms, Sy followed him in. 

That was a bit unexpected.

Jaster raised an eyebrow at him. Both Yan and Sy had been quite clear that nothing would happen without both of them there to participate. 

“I just wanted to tell you that I know you won’t harm Yan,” Sy said. The certainty in his voice was unsettling. “But the future is always in motion. Don’t give me a reason to meddle with yours.”

A slow grin cracked across Jaster’s face. “So you do threats, too, huh?” It was charming, and stoked his interest in the _jetii_ all over again. Being willing to fight for one’s _aliit_ and _riduur_ was an attractive trait. 

Sy’s lips quirked into a small smile and he shrugged. “Under the right circumstances, I suppose.” 

He tilted his head, as if he was waiting for something.

Jaster figured he’d oblige him. “You do your best to keep that little _jet’ika_ safe, back at your Temple. Otherwise my _ad’ike_ and I will come find him, and we won’t be nice.”

“I will. And the same goes for Ben and his brothers. Take care of them.”

“You know I will,” Jaster promised.

“Goodnight, Jaster.” Sy bowed. 

Jaster might have preferred a kiss -- from both Yan and Sy -- but the situation still felt fragile and new. Better to take things slow and whatever level of contact the _jetiise_ felt comfortable at. “Goodnight, Sy,” he said, with a salute tapped to his chest.

With that, Sy took himself out of Jaster’s suite.

It took Jaster a few minutes to get moving after that. His mind kept running through everything that had happened.

A hell of a night. A _hell_ of a night. Good and bad and good, all crammed into a few short hours.

Jaster headed to the ‘fresher for a quick shower. Then he collapsed into bed. 

He was exhausted. But, kark, but he couldn’t sleep a wink. Not even a little. Images of Sy and Yan kept him up.

Sleep was critical. If he showed up to breakfast tomorrow morning looking as exhausted as he bet Sy and Yan would look, the _vod’e_ would be impossible to stop. They’d gossip like old _verd’e_ around a winter campfire, and they’d do it in front of _Ardanna and Jango_ , and then Jaster would never know peace. 

That didn’t stop his brain from replaying the hungry grin on Yan’s face as he taunted Jaster by touching Sy. Or the way Sy’s tongue had felt working over Jaster’s fingers. Kark, just a little closer and Sy could have been licking across his stomach. That, inevitably, made Jaster think of other places where Sy could suck. All while being driven slowly mad by Yan’s relentless pounding.

Soon enough, Jaster found himself stroking himself to hardness again with the memory of Sy’s mouth on his fingers and his body rocking into Jaster’s with every thrust of Yan’s hips. 

That thought kept him company for a good long time.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh thank you all for joining us on this romp of a Dinner Out! 
> 
> To remind yourself of what happens the morning after, head back to Chapter 52 of The 212th Attack Battalion's Guide to Staging Rescues. Sy and Yan's innuendo over breakfast will probably take on new meaning ;)


	7. Mando'a glossary

**Ad** \- n. gender neutral word for son/daughter; plural: ad'e  
 **Adiik** \- n. child between the ages of 3 and 13 years  
 **Akaanir** \- v. to fight, present tense- akaani  
 **Aliit** \- n. clan/family  
 **Aliit ori'shya tal'din** \- Mando'a saying, meaning "Family is more than blood"  
 **Alor** \- n. leader, chief, officer, boss; can also be used to mean 'General'  
 **Al'verde** \- n. commander  
 **Aru'bral** \- n. enemy base (I made this one up; it's based on **aru'ela** for 'hostile' and **bral** for 'fortified location'.)  
 **Aruetii** \- n. traitor/foreigner/outsider; plural: aruetiise

**B', Be'** \- prepositional prefix denoting relationship: 'of'; eg: **ad be'Mand'alor** = "child of the Mand'alor" or "the Mand'alor's child"  
 **Ba'buir** \- n. Grandparent  
 **Ba'slanar** \- v. leave, depart, exit  
 **Beskad** \- n. Mandalorian sword with a single-edged blade that widened toward the tip before tapering to a point. Two metal guards protected the wielder's hand at the top and base of the hilt; plural: beskad'e  
 **Beskar** \- n. Mandalorian iron  
 **Beskar'gam** \- n. armour (literally: iron skin)  
 **Besom** \- n. ill-mannered lout; plural: besom'e  
 **Bral** \- n. hill fort; high ground; defended position  
 **Buir** \- n. gender neutral word for mother/father; plural: buir'e  
 **Burc'ya** \- n. friend; plural: burc'ya'se  
 **Buy'ce** \- n. helmet plural: buy'ce'se

**Chaabar** \- v. fear, be afraid of, present tense- chaaba  
 **Copaani mirshmure'cye?** \- Are you looking for a smack in the face?  
 **Cuy'val Dar** \- the group of 100 mercenaries hired to train the _Vod'e_ on Kamino  
 **Cyare** \- n. beloved, loved, popular

**Dar'manda** \- no longer a Mandalorian; not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and his soul - a fate regarded with absolute dread by most traditionally-minded Mando'ade  
 **Di'kut** \- n. idiot; plural: di'kut'e  
 **Dini'la** \- adj. insane  
 **Dral'han** \- The Annihilation. Refers to the destruction of Mandalore's surface by the Jedi and the Republic.   
**Duumir** \- v. To allow; present tense: duumi

**Elek** \- yes; can be shortened to **'lek** , which equates to an informal 'yeah'

**Gar** \- personal pronoun; you  
 **Gedet'ye** \- please  
 **Gedin'la** \- adj. eccentric, cranky, in a mood (literally: almost insane)

**Haashun** \- n. parchment bread - a thin sheet of bread dried to preserve it, and reconstituted in liquid. Mando ration-pack staple. Made properly, it's so thin you can read through it, hence the name; 'see-bread'.  
 **Haat** \- n. truth  
 **Haat, ijaa, haa'it** \- Truth, honor, vision - words used to seal a pact.  
 **Haat Mando'ad'e** \- n. True Mandalorians (plural)  
 **Haran** \- n. hell (literally: destruction, cosmic annihilation)  
 **Hukaatir** \- v. to cover  
 **Hukaat'kama** \- "Watch my six"  
 **Hut'uun** \- n. coward; very strong insult; plural: hut'uun'e

**Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur** \- Mando'a saying, meaning "Today is a good day for someone else to die"

**Jai'galaar** \- n. shriek-hawk  
 **Jare'la** \- adj. stupidly oblivious of danger, asking for it  
 **Jate'kara** \- n. luck, destiny - lit good stars, a course to steer by  
 **Jetii** \- n. Jedi; plural: jetiise  
 **Jetii'kad** \- n. Lightsabre (literally: Jedi sword); plural: jetii'kad'e

**K', Ke'** \- prepositional prefix denoting an imperative; eg: **Olaror** = to arrive; **K'olar** = "come here"  
 **Kandosii sa ka'rta, vod'e an.** A line from the Mandalorian war chant, 'Vod'e an', meaning "One indomitable heart, Brothers all."  
 **Kandosii'la** adj. awesome; wicked; splendid  
 **Kama** \- n. Belt-spat (That thing the clone troopers wear that kind of resembles a kilt)  
 **Ka'ra** \- n. Stars; also refers to an ancient Mandalorian myth: the ruling council of fallen kings  
 **Ka'rta** \- n. heart, can be used as an endearment  
 **Kaysh mirsh solus** \- he's an idiot (literally: his brain cell is lonely)  
 **Kir'manir** \- v. to adopt; to give a soul to someone  
 **K'olar** \- come here.  
 **K'oyacyi!** \- come back safely (literally: stay alive)  
 **Kute** \- n. underwear, bodysuit, something worn under armor  
 **K'uur** \- hush (as in "hush now, it's alright")  
 **Kyr'tsad** \- n. Death Watch

**Laandur** \- adj. delicate, fragile (sometimes an insult - weak, pathetic)  
 **Linibar** \- v. to need [something]; present tense: liniba

**Manda** \- n. the collective soul or heaven - the state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit - also supreme, overarching, guardian-like  
 **Mandokar'la** \- adj. having the right stuff, showing guts and spirit, the state of being the epitome of Mando virtue  
 **Mando’ad** \- n. Mandaloran being (literally: Child of Manda)  
 **Mando'ad draar digu** \- "A Mandalorian never forgets."  
 **Mand’alor** \- n. sole ruler of the Mandalore Sector; (literally: leader of the _Mando'ad'e_ )  
 **Manda'yaim** \- n. the planet of Mandalore (literally: home of the _Mando'ad'e_ )  
 **Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verd'e.** \- Mandalorian marriage vows, meaning "We are one when together, we are one when apart, we will share all, we will raise warriors."  
 **Mirshko** \- n. courage  
 **Mirsh'kyramud** \- n. incredibly boring person (literally: brain assassin)  
 **Morutar** \- v. to welcome, verb; present tense - moruta  
 **Morut'yc** \- adj. safe, secure  
 **Munit tome'tayl, skotah iisa.** \- "Long memory, short fuse"; phrase said to describe the typical Mando mindset

**Naas** \- n. Nothing  
 **Narudar** \- n. temporary ally; specifically your enemy's enemy, where both sides know this is an alliance of convenience and not a lasting pact  
 **Nayc** \- No  
 **Ne'johaa!** \- "Shut up!"  
 **Ne'tra gal** \- n. black ale. A sweet, almost spicy black beer similar to milk stout  
 **Ni** \- personal pronoun; I/me  
 **Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad** \- the (very simple) Mandalorian adoption ritual, the gai bal manda, meaning "I know your name as my child"  
 **Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum** \- I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal. (Daily remembrance of lost loved ones.)  
 **Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la** \- Not gone, merely marching far away. (Tribute to a dead comrade.)  
 **Ner burc'yase** \- my friends  
 **Ni ceta** \- the highest way of saying "I'm sorry" (literally: "I kneel")  
 **Nu draar** \- No way. Absolutely not. Never in a million years. Not on your life. Emphatic disagreement and doubt. (literally: Not never.)

**Olar** \- here  
 **Olarom** \- [be] welcome; a greeting  
 **Or'dinii** \- n. fool, moron  
 **Ori'copaad** \- n. obsession, fixation (literally: "big want")  
 **Ori'ramikad** \- n. supercommando (Mandalorian designation of elite special forces); plural: ori'ramikad'e  
 **Ori'vod** \- n. older brother/sister  
 **Osik** \- dung (impolite)  
 **Oya!** \- Many meanings: literally "Let's hunt!" and also "Stay alive!", but also "Hoorah!", "Go you!", "Cheers!"; Always positive and triumphant.

**Pare sol** \- "Hang on!" (literally: Wait one.); **Ke'pare** is much more emphatic - *Wait!*

**Resol'nare** \- the Six Actions, the tenets of Mando life. “The core of what it means to be Mandalorian. A sacred law giving us direction and purpose. Education and armor, self-defense, our tribe, our language, our leader—all help us survive. We must educate our children as Mandalorians, obey the commands of Mandalore, speak Mando'a and defend our clans.” - Akaavi Spar  
 **Ret'urcye mhi** \- Goodbye (literally: Maybe we'll meet again.)  
 **Riduur** \- n. spouse/lover; plural: riduur'e  
 **Riduurok** \- n. marriage ceremony consisting of four phrases/promises/vows

**Shabuir** \- n. jerk, but much stronger; extreme insult  
 **Shebs** \- n. Buttocks; plural: shebse  
 **Shuner** \- n. bread  
 **Striil** \- n. highly intelligent six-legged hunting carnivore, capable of gliding and flight  
 **Suum ca'nara** \- n. the state of blissful rest and peace  
 **Su cuy'gar** \- Hello (literally: You're still alive.)

**Tiingilar** \- n. blisteringly spicy Mandalorian casserole  
 **Tion** \- preposition that marks a question

**Uj'alayi** \- n. uj cake - dense, very sweet flat cake made of ground nuts, syrup, pureed dried fruit and spice

**Ver'alor** \- n. lieutenant  
 **Verburyc** \- adj. Loyal  
 **Verd** \- n. soldier/warrior; plural: verd'e  
 **Verd'yc** \- adj. aggressive (not necessarily negative)  
 **Vod** \- n. gender neutral word for brother/sister; plural: Vod'e  
 **Vod'ika** \- n. little brother/sister; plural: vod'ike  
 **Vor entye** \- thank you (literally: I accept the debt)


End file.
